Latest Posts by duckthepatriarchy - Page 3

Watch Lady Chatterley's Lover (2022) and then Read...

I absolutely loved Lady Chatterley's Lover (2022). I think it was a triumph of the female gaze, Emma Corrin being the Period Piece Pinch Hitter we all need in a post-Keira world, and fucking in the woods.

To be clear, the book is not a romance. It does not end unhappily (more like "to be continued", without any intention of a continuation and clarification) but it's not a romance. The movie, I would argue... is pretty close to being a romance, or just a romance outright. Joely Richardson looks at the camera and goes "this is a love story", and by God, who am I to question Joely Richardson (who also was Lady Chatterley once). It hits many of the classic notes of a historical romance novel--hardcore fucking and immediately having an existential crisis after, "my god, how could this constant unprotected sex I'm having result in a PREGNANCY???", a douchey rich guy who wants to publish his stupid novella.

After watching it, I wanted to go through my rolodex of books and throw up some recommendations for what to read after watching this movie and getting a bit. Interested.

I tried to focus on a) interclass dynamics or b) illicit affairs. Ideally both, but it's more about the vibe than the readalike nature.

The Leopard Prince by Elizabeth Hoyt. In many ways, a Lady Chatterley vibe without the annoying husband and *with* a murder mystery. Our heroine is a wealthy heiress who travels to an estate she recently inherited on her own, employing an experience steward to help her with the business side of things. And with the business side of things. Elizabeth Hoyt writes some of the best sex in the game, and there's a lot of great class conflict in this one.

Waking Up with the Duke by Lorraine Heath. A Lady Chatterley setup but with less class conflict and more *secrets*. The Duke of Ainsley, genteel and well-mannered, still feels real bad for that time he got into a carriage accident with his best friend, which resulted in said friend's permanent impotency. Friend asks Ainsley to pay him back by fucking his wife, Jayne, in order to ensure that she has the baby she's always wanted. Jayne is like "say what now", because she does in fact hold the accident against Ainsley, and Ainsley is all "I COULD NEVER--but if you're like... insisting..." because of course, he has always carried a torch for Jayne. A month of hot, angsty, "don't kiss me on the mouth" cottage sex ensues, and the emotional fallout for these idiots is MAGNIFICENT.

The Countess by Sophie Jordan. Not out yet, but put this one on your TBR because there is certainly a married lady discovering her sexuality in the arms of another man (wealthy, but of a different social class) around these parts. Out 3/28/23.

Between the Devil and Desire by Lorraine Heath. For the "this coarse man is lighting my ladylike fires" vibe. Our heroine is a recently widowed duchess with a young son, who comes to find out that--what the fuck--her husband left the guardianship of their child to a man she doesn't even fucking know. The hero grew up on the streets and has risen to become a successful club owner, but is still very much lower class. They move in together, and incredible sexual tension and heightened emotions ensue. TW: discussion of childhood sexual abuse.

Dreaming of You by Lisa Kleypas. This might seem a bit left field at first, but I shall recommend it because a) there is a huge emphasis on class in this novel. Sara is not necessarily a hugely upper class lady, but she is a genteel lady, and Derek Craven's awareness of their social differences and his roughness against her softness is a huge part of their conflict in the first half of the book. B) sexual awakening is very emphasized in Sara's journey. C) Sara does have a boring fucking fiance who's like "Sara, it's okay if we aren't that into each other sexually" while Sara, having just gotten her titties sucked at a party, is like "UHHHHHH NO THAT IS NOT OKAY". D) Much like Oliver Mellors, Derek Craven suffers from "is very smart but sometimes we don't know what he's saying" syndrome.

Duchess by Day, Mistress by Night by Stacy Reid. Our heroine is another widowed duchess with a young son--but this time, she's on the hunt for the governess that ditched in a flash. She hires the coarse, lower class but nonetheless successful fixer in town to help her... And his price ends up being a bit more carnal than monetary. VERY illicit affairs dot mp3.

Notorious Pleasures by Elizabeth Hoyt. No class difference here, but we do have a lot of illicit sneaking around when our heroine begins sleeping with her betrothed's roguish brother--who might just fuck the rigid rule following sensibility right out of her.

Her Night with the Duke by Diana Quincy. A widow has a one night stand with a handsome stranger, only to discover that he's courting her stepdaughter. It's messy, it's angsty, it's hot, and I do believe there are some outdoor activities.

Hello! I saw your requests were open so I was wondering if you could write a Spencer Reid x Reader fic based off “prison for life” by Olivia Rodrigo. Spencer has always been in the protector role so i believe it would fit him, please and thank you

PRISON FOR LIFE ; spencer reid

i know i can protect myself, but when you do it for me it’s hot as hell . . .

a/n: your brain is huge this song is so spencer coded

warnings: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader, unsub / case entirely made up to avoid spoilers, protective!spencer, established relationship, secret relationship, mentions of guns, violence, blood, criminal minds in general

a team. the worst kind of conclusion to draw when you’re narrowing in on an unsub, or two in this case. two family annihilators that would stalk and learn the routines of their victims, the kills were usually quick and ruthless, in and out in a matter of minutes.

only this time, your team had gotten there right in time. derek dragged one unsub out the door while the other bolted down the stairs towards the basement. without thinking, you’re sprinting after him, unknowingly running straight into a trap.

you trip the moment you barrel through the door, flying head first down the flight of stairs and landing on the hard concrete with a hard thud.

dizzily, you get to your feet, clumsily reaching for your gun only to realise you dropped it on your way down. it’s dark, you’re disoriented, and most terrifyingly, you’re not alone down here.

a fact you’re abruptly reminded of when a cord is wrapped around your throat, pulling your back flush against the chest of the unsub you were hunting. the initial panic urges you to scramble, but your training kicks in and you manage the lodge your elbow right into his ribs making him drop the cable.

the same elbow connects with his jaw with a satisfying crack but he’s not going easily, using the hair at the back of your head as leverage to bash your head against a dust old desk.

the struggle goes on for what feels like hours, and you’re giving as good as you’re getting. with a successful knee to his groin you send the unsub tumbling to the ground, and right as he’s about to lunge at you a metallic click sounds from behind where you stand.

“one more step and i’ll empty my clip”

spencer reid, your favourite coworker who also happens to be your long time boyfriend, has his gun pointed at the unsub with one hand as the other reaches out to pull you behind him protectively.

in a matter of seconds tara is cuffing the dirtbag before you and hauling him up the stairs with the help of jj, leaving you and spencer in the dusty basement.

“I had it under control.”

“It was no problem, darling, honestly, no need to thank me” spencer teases, holstering his gun and taking your face in his hands to fully examine the extent of your injuries “you really think i was just gonna ignore the fact you ran after a killer and didn’t come back within sixty seconds?”

“i’m not some damsel in distress” you groan, letting him examine your face with no resistance “i can protect myself”

“i know.” spencer nods, using his thumb to swipe the blood away from your bottom lip “it’s not gonna stop me protecting you, though. sorry”

he can see through your faux annoyance. spencer knows just as much as you do that you like having him as your protector, it’s ‘his job’ as he put it.

though, his protectiveness has made hiding your relationship that bit trickier.

everyone on the team would take a bullet for each other, there was no doubt about it, but people hotch were beginning to notice that spencer often went above and beyond when it came to your safety.

like when the bau were being targeted, he never left your side, if you were sent to interview a suspect reid was right there with you. even if a joke was made at your expense, it wouldn’t be entertained by spencer.

sometimes you could pass it off as it being because you were a woman, because even though all the women on the team were more than capable, the men on the team had a fierce protective streak for them whether or not they knew.

“you’re so annoying..” you grumble, fighting a small smile.

“mhm” spencer chuckles, pressing a quick, light kiss to your head “i love you too, darling”

“oh!”

a squeak from tara has both of you whipping your heads in her direction, frozen in the mixture of fear and embarrassment that you’d just been caught out.

“well,” tara clears her throat and makes a poor attempt at concealing a grin “we’re all done here when you two are ready.”

Tumblr flagged my nsfw fanart for this post but I'd still like people to see it, so if anyone would like me to send them what I drew, feel free to message me!

Other than yours and tswwwit’s lovely fics, any billdip fic recs? I struggle to find good ones

A few!

Nothing Worse Than Knowing How It Ends

In Irons And Gold

Just Us

Caught In My Trap

To Toe The Line

A pencil sketch of Stan the Gargoyle from Monster Falls.

That is all.

Book of Bill spoilers!! Moments that caused me severe emotional damage edition!!!!

IM GENUINELY SICKENED OVER THIS SHIT IM SO COOKED

THE FIRST AND LAST ONES HIT ME LIKE A TON OF BRICKS LET ME TELL YOU

flew like a moth to you

read part one here

pairing: richie jerimovich x fem!reader

summary: thoughts of a certain infuriating older man seem to keep racing through your mind and as the two of you continue crossing paths, you’re bound to be drawn to the flame you ignite in one another.

warning (s): implied age gap | language | angst | verbal arguments | smut | titty suckin | dry humping | p in v | unprotected sex | foreplay | dad bod richie | vaginal fingering | cunnilingus | blowjob | oral sex | penetration | richie’s pull out game is immaculate | edited to the best of my ability |

wc: 16k (i’m sorry y’all i just wanna be their third real bad)

The summer breeze drifted through your open bedroom window as you sat on your bed while Xiomara rooted through your closet looking for something to wear for her date the following night. You weren’t sure what was so special about your closet considering you knew Xio’s taste in clothing was more expensive than yours but the both of you treated each other’s apartment like a thrift store whenever you visited.

You scrolled through the calendar on your laptop organizing the upcoming tutoring dates for the next few weeks making sure they didn’t interfere with the days you were working with the summer reading program at the library. You were beyond grateful you didn’t have to sign up for a session of summer school this year, even though you were still doing academic-centric jobs it felt nice to do something you enjoyed without being trapped inside a classroom.

Summer break was treating you exceptionally well even after it only being a few weeks. You’d been recruited by a family friend of one of your students to help tutor their middle school-aged child, and while they could be a pain in the ass at times, the pay was too good to pass up, pair that with the summer reading program through the local libraries you were working at and you were set until the next school year began. Although you were working you still had time to yourself, finally not too tired to miss a night out, even falling back in love with your hobbies because you weren’t dead on your feet from chasing around sticky six-year-olds.

“Ohh wow, this is actually so cute I love the fit of it. Did you thrift it?” Xio’s words drew your attention, your eyes still focused on the digital screen before you finally looked up to see what she was talking about.

You frowned trying to ignore the irritation that crawled through you at the sight of the suit jacket hanging off of Xio’s shoulders. “No, it’s uh not mine.”

Xio’s eyes lit up at the crumbs you’d given her in just those five words, a large grin lined her lips as she slipped out of the jacket holding it up to the light streaming through the room to examine it. “Girl who’s fucking jacket is this? And why the fuck does it smell like a forest?”

A chuckle left your lips eyes rolling as you shut down your laptop before setting it on your nightstand and folded your legs to your chest doing your best to keep a neutral expression. “Just some guy I met.” You shrugged your shoulders hoping you sounded nonchalant.

“Mhm,” Xio’s hum was punctuated by her throwing the jacket at you. “Was it that guy you went on a date with? The boring finance guy?” Her eyebrows raised as she looked at you in question, she had that smile on her face like she already knew the truth.

You played with the sleeve of the jacket, finger tracing around the cuff link. “Okay, so there was another guy.” You bit your lip to hide your smile as Xio squealed before bouncing onto your bed, her hands clapping in excitement.

“When was this?” You didn’t even get a chance to respond before a dramatic gasp ripped through her. The sound seemed to fill up the whole room. “You sneaky girl you got wined and dined by finance bro and then ended your night with mystery jacket guy?” You weren’t sure how she did it but it was like Xio knew things without having to be told it was a superpower of hers.

“I wouldn’t call it wining and dining if I paid for my meal.” The two of you scoffed in disgust at the same time before divulging into a fit of laughter, you’d completely forgotten the way you left out the moment you shared with Richie when you first debriefed your friends on the date.

Maybe it was selfish but you had a strong urge to keep what happened between you and Richie to yourself, sure that another opportunity like that wouldn’t present itself again, not that you even wanted it to. The following school week he hadn’t dropped off or picked up Eva and instead of taking it as a personal slight against you, you took it as a sign from the universe that whatever happened between the two of you was just an outcome of the passion brought on by your arguing, a moment of lust filled weakness.

Xiomara laid on her stomach propping her head in her hands as she looked up at you, “So, any reason you haven’t returned his jacket?”

You shrugged looking down at the fabric in your hands before standing to hang it back up, “I chickened out.” It wasn’t a lie you had every intention to stop by the restaurant and drop it off but every time you worked up even the littlest bit of courage you always talked yourself out of it. “And I don’t even think he cares about it.”

“You are so full of shit!” You didn’t have to turn around to see Xio’s eyes rolling or the knowing look she often wore. “You like him!”

The scoff you let out wasn’t even believable to your ears as you exited the room, Xio’s feet eagerly padding behind you as she caught up before plopping down on the stool at your island while you grabbed the takeout menus from your kitchen drawer and tossed them onto the island.

“Absolutely not, if anything I tolerated him. He’s actually fucking insufferable.” You eyed the menus trying not to catch Xio’s eye.

“Oh, so you knew him prior to that night then?” If you thought Richie was insufferable Xio was being even more insufferable as she gave you the third degree in your apartment. You couldn’t be upset though, you knew you’d be doing the same thing if the roles were reversed.

You were just glad that the whole friend group wasn’t here to gang up on you. You hesitated before speaking, pondering the best way to go about the situation, not particularly in the mood to hear the wild fantasies Xio would come up with. “He’s the father of a student I had this year.”

Xiomara’s scream of excitement was exactly last thing you wanted to hear at that moment as she shot out of her chair and ran around the island to jump up and down in excitement with you, your energy far from matching hers. “Wait till everyone hears you bagged a dilf! They’re gonna fre-,”

“What? Xio, no!” You placed your hands atop her shoulders, halting her excitement before it could get too out of hand. Eyes watching as she folded in on herself lips turning into a full-on pout, “I didn’t bag anybody, I almost fucked him in a parking lot and I haven’t seen him since, that’s it, end of story. Now can we please choose what to order?”

It was beneath you but you gave her the puppy dog eyes, feeling victorious as you watched her completely deflate before nodding and pulling you into a hug, “A parking lot?” She looked at you with mirth in her eyes before you swatted her on the arm with the takeout menus.

The two of you divulged into less Richie-centric conversation, your mind sometimes wandering to the mystery man. Did he think of you as much as you thought about him?

You knew the universe could be cruel, but at this point, you felt like whatever higher power was in control of the timeline of your life found joy in putting you in the most awkward and unexpected positions you could imagine. Case in point being the small blonde child soundly asleep in the backseat of your car, as you stared up at the daunting building facade of a restaurant you had zero intentions of ever visiting again.

You could have easily said no, apologized to Ms. Gattina over the phone, and let her know it wasn’t your job to shuttle kids to and fro once your shift with the library reading program finished for the day, that once the clock struck 2 p.m. the children in the reading program were no longer your responsibility. But then you found Eva sitting all alone at the library help desk long after all the other kids were picked up sitting and listening as the librarian spoke to her mother over the phone to explain the situation and while you wanted to help in any way, you’re not sure what made you agree to dropping off the forgotten child with her father.

A feeling of unease rose inside you the longer you sat there. While you knew you were putting yourself in an awkward position by involving yourself in the middle of a familial dispute, hearing Ms. Gattina’s stressed pleas as she divulged probably more than you deserved to know about the stress she felt with the possibility of Eva being left alone along with said stress brought on by her ex-husband, you found yourself agreeing to her request out of some misplaced feeling of guilt.

And now all you had left to do was drop Eva off with her father, hope that he was aware his ex-wife enlisted your help, and be on your merry way and hope this doesn’t become routine. Sighing one last time you gathered your belongings along with Eva’s bag full of goodies given out before stepping out of the car and hurrying around to the back seat to get the still-sleeping child.

“Eva, sweetie,” your voice was quiet as you gently shook her shoulder trying to wake her. “I need you to wake up.” You stopped as the little girl let out a quiet whine obviously not ready to be roused from her sleep, another sigh left you as you carefully undid her seatbelt and reached in to lift her out of the car hefting her onto your hip and checking the back seat for anything she may have left behind before closing the door and locking your car as you headed to the entrance.

You were surprised at how easily the door swung open, positive it would be locked considering the restaurant wasn’t open to business at this time but you gave it little thought as you stepped into the air-conditioned establishment. It was odd seeing the restaurant like this, quiet not filled with the hustle and bustle of nightlife, the ambiance much more different than the one you experienced when being a paying customer. It was an eerie feeling but it also wasn’t the reason you were there.

The small voice emanating from your neck made you jump, eyes shooting down to Eva’s bleary blues as your eyebrows raised in confusion unsure of what she said. You watched as her small hand lifted, tiny finger pointing in the direction of the kitchen before she spoke once more.

“S’uncle Carmy.” Your eyes moved from the tip of her small finger to look through the small sliver of window that offered a peek into the kitchen, surprised to find a group of people all talking over each other, you weren’t sure how you hadn’t heard the raised voices before but as you continued staring the ongoing argument was made more obvious.

The one person you needed to notice you was nowhere to be found and you couldn’t help the sense of worry that filled you, because if Eva’s father wasn’t here what the hell were you supposed to do with her? Hopefully whoever the hell Uncle Carmy was could take her off your hands, before you could even think about your next course of action you locked eyes with one of the women standing in the group, her own eyes dropping to the child in your arms in recognition.

You breathed a sigh of relief as she excused herself from the conversation, not that anyone paid her words much attention as she moved out of the kitchen and began making her way to you.

“Hi, sorry to just show up but Ms. Gattina asked me to drop Eva off with her father. I messaged him but he didn’t respond.” You gave the woman a forced smile trying not to stare at her heavily swollen belly before realizing she deserved a more thorough explanation. “I was Eva’s second-grade teacher this past school year and I work with the summer reading program through one of the libraries and Eva’s…” You trailed off as the woman raised her eyebrows in amusement at the frantic way you were speaking.

The woman sent you a gentle smile before moving closer, “It's okay, Tiff told me to be on the lookout for you two.” Her hand raised as she gently caressed Eva’s head causing the little girl’s head to poke out from its place resting in your neck, her eyes brightened as much as they could in her tired state as she smiled at the woman in front of you. “Just a bit of friendly advice Richie’s back there on the phone with her now and he did not sound happy.”

You gave a nod of appreciation her underlying tone telling you it was best to get the hell out of dodge, you sent her one last smile before craning your neck to look down at Eva, “Alright sweetie I’m gonna leave you here with…” you trailed off unsure who this woman was to the young girl.

“Aunt Nat…by association at least.” Your eyebrows raised at her words, the sound of them not providing you with any more confidence to leave Eva in her care.

But before either of you could speak another word his tall figure emerged in your peripheral vision, the glare he was sending your way not what you expected. You watched as his expression changed when his gaze dropped to the small girl in your arms, it was almost instantaneous the way his eyes lit up mouth settling into a gentle smile as his hand reached to softly rub up and down her back, his hand bumping into yours before he carefully extracted her from your arms.

“Hey, little monster.” His voice rang through your ears as Eva let out a small giggle before throwing her arms around his neck, the two of them squeezing each other las though their lives depended on it. You tore your eyes away from them as he began whispering to her eyes finding the only other person in the room only to find her already looking at you curiously as you offered a small smile. “Nat could you uh, take Eva for a bit the two of us need to speak.” His words were punctuated by his hand gesturing between you and him.

The woman you now knew to be Nat stood there for a moment before nodding her head as Richie set Eva down so she could walk. You let out a small laugh as Eva moved to wrap her arms around your legs in a goodbye hug before you squatted to her level passing off her goody bag, the small child wrapped her arms around your neck in one last goodbye hug before moving to follow her aunt. “C’mon Eva, why don’t you show me all your goodies in the office.” Nat sent you one last smile before spiriting the two of them away.

You stood to your full height next to Richie both of you watching as they disappeared through the kitchen before the older man rounded on you, hand shooting out with lighting speed as he gripped your bicep and pulled you further from any prying ears in the kitchen finding a perfectly good corner to berate you in.

“Who in the fuck do you think you are?” Richie’s lips curled into a sneer as he looked at you awaiting your answer, the anger he felt translating his iron grip on your bicep.

Frowning, you shook your head confused as to why you were the object of his ire before he spoke over any words you’d thought about spewing. “Waltzing in like some fucking hero carrying my daughter and shit like you just did me the biggest favor in the world.”

Your anger was beginning to peak at the hostile attitude you were receiving, the confusion quickly replaced by how irate you were beginning to feel as your hand came up to shove his arm off of you watching in satisfaction at the look of surprise with how much force was behind it.

“I don’t know what the fuck your problem is Mr. Jerimovich, but you’re not going to stand here and berate me like I deserve it.” Your brows pinched in irritation as you took a step closer into his space, the man's huffs of breath hitting your face. “And for the record, I didn’t do this for you, because while Eva may have been happy to see you a moment ago, you don’t know how distraught she was sitting all alone at the library thinking you’d forgotten about her.” It wasn’t necessary but your last few words were followed by your fingers poking harshly into his chest as you tried to get your point across.

Richie clenched his jaw as your words rang in his ears as he took that last step closer to you closing whatever distance was left between the two of you, your chest brushing against his every time you breathed. “Don’t you ever fucking speak on me as a parent ever again? You fucking hear me?”

The timbre of his voice dropped exceptionally low, his words having taken on a warning tone as they ghosted across your lips. The anger he was stewing in basically emanated off of him, you knew you should have taken his warning, should’ve nodded your head and been on your way and washed your hands of the whole situation but against your better judgment, you just had to have the last words.

“Maybe next time, don’t put the responsibility of parenting your child on me.” You should’ve expected the blow-up, it was written all over his face the moment he saw you upon exiting the kitchen, but for some odd reason when it came to him you just weren’t satisfied until he looked like he hated you.

You let out the breath you’d been holding as he turned to walk away from you, only to be surprised when he spun back around just as fast, finger-pointing in your face as he backed you further into the corner.

“Fuck you!” His voice boomed across the restaurant, your eyebrows raised at just how loud he was, eyes darting behind his imposing figure as you hoped his outburst wasn’t loud enough to draw attention. “You think you’re so much fucking better than me huh? Well, guess what sweetheart, if I’m such a shitty fucking parent what does that make you then huh? Letting me spread you out in pub-.”

His words cut off as you placed your hand on his chest before shoving him back remembering that regardless of how he felt about you, you didn’t have to sit there and take it not getting much further as he quickly moved around you to stand right back in front of you, “No, I’m not fucking done with you.”

“You think because you put on a suit and tie it makes you important?” You paused waiting for him to digest the words, watching on as the anger that once marred his face gave way to confusion. “You’re a 40-year-old fucking nobody.” You watched the hurt flash across his face, a sick feeling of satisfaction coursed through you at just how much you could hurt him with just your words as you tried to ignore the small inkling of guilt you could feel rolling around inside.

Richie’s jaw clenched and unclenched several times, you followed the movement, eyes lingering longer than necessary at the peak of his Adam’s apple over the collar of his shirt before watching as he opened his mouth to speak only for you to beat him to it.

“Tell me this Richie, are you the type of man you would want Eva surrounding herself with?” The question wasn’t meant to rile him up anymore, it was a genuine question you thought he deserved to sit with. And as you stepped around him you tried not to let the embarrassment take over you at the sight of the audience that had since gathered listening to your spat.

Only offering them a small apologetic smile followed by a nod of your head as you took your leave, vowing that you wouldn’t ever give Richie another moment of your time willingly.

Richie did his best to listen intently as the woman across from him spoke passionately about her accounting job, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the circle of condensation that dripped off his glass of water. Dating was still weird to him, the idea that he was no longer loyal to the one person he planned on spending the rest of his life with would sometimes creep up on him when he least expected it, reminding him of how much of a failure he was in this life after already spending four decades on this earth.

The woman across from him wasn’t boring by any means, she was a great conversationalist and while her topic of conversation wasn’t anything to write home about, he appreciated the obvious love she had for her work. Since he decided to move forward with his life Richie’s dating history was mediocre at best, dates were few and far between and that was mostly due to his lack of trying and busy schedule with the restaurant, but on the nights that he did secure a date he was at least somewhat interested in it never felt like that interest was returned; as though he’d never met the level of expectations his dates held him to.

Familiar laughter made Richie sit up straighter in his chair, the restaurant wasn’t particularly quiet in any way but the fact that his ears latched onto that specific noise forced him to pay better attention to his surroundings. Richie’s eyes quickly found the source that caused the ringing in his ears; his hand unconsciously moved to adjust his tie and suit jacket as though doing so would catch the culprit's attention.

There you were tucked into one of the few darkened corner booths in the establishment, eyes locked on the person whose arm you were tucked under, whatever they were whispering in your ear was funny enough to deserve your laughter. Richie found himself watching you, unsure as to why he felt as though he couldn’t look away, the two of you weren’t on good terms by any means but for some reason he always found himself drawn back to you no matter how much you and your attitude pissed him off. He wasn’t even sure how he knew it was your laughter having only heard it a handful of times and never because of him, but it wasn’t like he could just un-notice you no matter how upset your words and observations from weeks ago made him.

If Richie was sure about anything in his life at the moment it was that you were avoiding him, or maybe it was the other way around. Whatever the case was neither of you had contact with the other since you both spewed such scathing words to each other at The Bear, whenever it was his day to pick up Eva from the reading program it was like you were nowhere to be found even though he knew Eva preferred being by your side while she waited. Richie hadn’t realized just how much the whole ordeal frustrated him until hearing Eva make a passing comment about how she thought Frank was funny because you thought he was funny. His frustrations seemed to reach such a point that Syd even brought the argument up to him doing prep one day helping him to see the error of his ways in taking his frustration out on you when you were only doing what his ex-wife asked of you and putting Eva’s safety first when you could’ve easily left his daughter all alone because of his mistake.

He was pulled from his train of thought by his date across from him, the furrow of her brows had him rushing to assure her that he wasn’t ignoring her, using some excuse about how life at The Bear made him scatterbrained and while it definitely wasn’t the reason his mind wandered, with all the new shit Carmy was implementing it also wasn’t a lie. And that’s how the rest of his date went making idle conversation with a woman he was almost positive wasn’t interested in a second date with him as he let his eyes subtly drift to your corner every so often trying to ignore the way watching you radiate in your happiness made him feel a bit better about the whole night. Although seeing you tucked so snuggly into that corner against a man that wasn’t him made him envious.

Richie would be lying if he said he wasn’t relieved when his night ended and even more so relieved at the amicable decision to not take whatever this was or could’ve been any further. But he was less than relieved to find you standing on the sidewalk waving off who he assumed to be your date for the night as you stood all on your lonesome, no ride in sight. He tried to tell himself it was none of his business, that it wasn’t his responsibility that you made it home safe, but he also couldn’t allow himself to return to the safety of his own home only to wonder if you’d ever made it home at all. Maybe offering you a ride could extend an olive branch, he could even offer up the apology you deserved during the drive. But more than that, any chance you got you put the care and safety of his daughter first, he told himself it was only right to return the favor.

One of his hands reached to loosen his tie before he forced himself to put his pride aside and take the few steps he needed to get to you. Unsure of how to breach the topic of conversation he gave himself a few minutes watching as you scrolled absentmindedly on your phone, his irritation not only growing at the fact that you were left here alone but also the fact you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings.

Richie cleared his throat before speaking, “Did they just leave you here with no way home?” It was a straightforward question and maybe he should have approached you differently as he watched you jump and clasp your phone in surprise at the sound of his voice.

The silence lingered between the two of you as Richie watched your eyes land on him in recognition, your eyes ran over his attire before looking from him to the restaurant. He took the time to let his own eyes roam trying to ignore the way your chest rose and fell as you tried to calm down from the fright before his eyes moved further down your figure, silently and respectfully drinking in the way the fabric of your outfit hugged your figure.

Richie tugged at his tie as he awaited your answer, eyes latching onto the bare skin of your shoulder where the strap of your outfit had fallen from when he scared you. He cleared his throat before looking into your eyes once more.

The noise seemed to rouse you from your stupor as you blinked away your surprise before opening and closing your mouth until you landed on the best response. “Why? Gonna critique my choice of date again?”

Richie bit his tongue ready to do exactly that, he decided to forego the eye roll and scoff he felt was necessary before stuffing his hands in the pockets of his slacks rocking back and forth where he stood trying to decide if it was even worth offering you a ride with how comfortable you seemed to just stand there waiting.

“How was your date?” The curiosity was obvious in your voice but Richie didn’t allow himself to think anything of it as he raised his eyebrows in your direction.

A chuckle escaped him as he watched you look anywhere but his eyes, maybe this was your way of trying to keep the conversation cordial and make up for your snarky question. “What makes you think it was a date?”

“I…walked past your table when I got here.” He followed the motion of your head as you nodded to the restaurant, your eyes falling to his dress shoes afterward. “Seemed like you were having a good time.”

Richie shrugged his shoulder kicking a small pebble on the sidewalk, “Not as good as you and your date seemed to have.” He knew it wasn’t the answer you were expecting as he watched your eyebrows raise as you finally looked at him, but he hoped his curiosity would pay off.

As another silence settled between the two of you, Richie was sure that was his sign to leave. While the two of you could engage in conversations that lacked substance, maybe it was best not to push this moment between the two of you into hostile territory and just cut his losses when he could.

The sound of your voice made Richie’s brows raise as he listened to the timber of your voice dance through his eardrums. “What makes you think it was a date?” The slight uptick of the right side of your mouth had Richie biting back a smile of his own, a smile that he wasn’t interested in giving a second thought at that moment.

“The two of you seemed real chummy in that dimly lit corner. But you’re here and he isn’t so I’m not sure what to think anymore.” Richie wasn’t sure what forced the words out of him, but he couldn’t deny the enjoyment these less-than hostile borderline flirty moments between the two of you brought him.

His eyes tracked the way you began chewing on your bottom lip, a part of him hoped you were just as confused as him in the feelings department. “Now, what kind of person would I be if I made him choose between me and the surgery he was called into?”

A fucking surgeon of course. Richie couldn’t help but let his mind drift to your words in the restaurant about how he was four decades into life with nothing to show for it. The ice-cold claws of reality sank further into him as he stared at the small smirk that painted your lips clueless to the inner turmoil raging through him.

Richie shrugged, settling back into the cocky facade he always wore, “Seems to me like he didn’t make the right choice.”

The surprised laughter that forced its way out of your lips caused a genuine smile to grace Richie’s lips while he stood only feet from you watching you indulge in his stupid words as Chicago’s nightlife painted you in a cacophony of colorful light imprinting a most memorable image of your joy into his mind.

There were two options for Richie at that moment, end the conversation with you here and be on his merry way. Or he could offer you the ride he’d planned upon first walking over here and make sure you made it home safely; he decided on doing the latter.

Richie eyed you for a moment longer hyping himself up as his eyes landed on the naked skin of your shoulder one more time. His long legs closed the distance between the two of you before he reached his hand out, fingers tracing up your skin as he adjusted the strap in its rightful place, the appendages lingering longer than needed before he dropped his hand back to his side.

“You uh…want a ride home?”

Silence wasn’t ever something that bothered you much, sometimes it was just nice to appreciate the moment without a bit of sound passing, but sitting in Richie Jerimovich’s car with nothing but the quiet sound of the radio station to fill the void of silence as he drove to your apartment bothered you more than you’d liked to admit.

And if the awkward car ride wasn’t enough here the two of you stood just outside your apartment door as you searched through your clutch for your keys. You couldn’t be sure what compelled you to invite him up or what even compelled him to accept the invitation but it felt too late to rescind the offer as you slipped your key into the lock, standing in the quiet hallway as the door knob gave way before moving to the next lock.

You could feel the heat of him against your back as you worked the lock, trying to ignore the involuntary goosebumps rising on your skin rushing to push through to your apartment before turning to him with a tight smile and gesturing him inside. You watched as he hesitated, probably as apprehensive as you considering your track record with each other before he stepped over the threshold into your abode allowing you to close and lock the door.

A quiet deep breath filled your lungs as you hyped yourself up for what you were about to do. In the short amount of time you’d known him, Richie Jerimovich was a consistent pain in your ass but you also couldn’t deny the sensual touches and hungry kisses the two of you shared in the parking lot all those nights ago, or the way you oftentimes found yourself thinking about the older man. And if you were being honest with yourself, you felt guilty for the scathing words you left him with when dropping Eva off.

Turning from the door your eyes landed on the back of his suit jacket watching as he stood in your living room with a framed picture in his hand. It wasn’t surprising that he would look around your home, but the sight of him in your space didn’t make you as uncomfortable as you first thought it would.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” You leaned against the island to take off your shoes as you let your question linger in the air, looking up to already find him staring at you, hands clutching the picture frame.

He cleared his throat before turning to place the frame back where he found it, “Just a water…please.”

You nodded, moving to the sink and washing your hands before grabbing two glasses out of the cabinet and filling them up with the filtered water from the fridge. You turned to find Richie standing opposite you on the other side of the island as you held out the glass to him ignoring the way his fingers brushed yours as he took hold of the glass.

“Thank you for driving me home tonight.” you paused as he shrugged off your words like they were no big deal. “I really appreciate it.”

This whole ordeal felt awkward, him sitting here in your home, the two of you playing at being cordial or whatever the hell this was, especially considering the few words he’d spoken since stepping in were curt with no room to continue the conversation.

“Don’t mention it,” he raised the glass of water to his lips taking a sip. “Should probably drive yourself if you plan on going on any more dates.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips as you chuckled, knuckles drumming against the counter as Richie’s words of warning rang through your ear, an obvious shot at the fact he’d found you alone outside the restaurant waiting for the car that was sent for you.

“Why? You not gonna be there next time to take me home?” You raised your eyebrows letting him know his words weren’t as subtle as he might have thought they were.

“I dunno, you gonna invite me in if I do?” Richie’s lips pulled into a smirk as he watched the visible surprise encapsulate your face at the fact he was willingly bantering with you after all of the harsh words previously shared between the two of you.

Snatching the glass out of his hand you turned to refill his half-empty cup needing a moment to compose yourself before you allowed your interest in him to get the best of you and make a mistake you’d be sure to regret. Reminding yourself of the initial reason you invited him up with you, and it wasn’t for the two of you to go tit for tat with flirty words.

“I…uh,” you cleared your throat as you spun around to hand him the glass back. “I want to apologize for what I said to you…about you all those weeks ago.”

You watched as his lips settled into a grim line, eyes falling to your hands that sat between the two of you flat against the surface of the island. “It wasn’t fair of me to call your parenting into question. It’s really none of my business-”

“No uh, you were right,” you stopped mid-sentence as Richie’s voice interrupted you, confusion marred your features as he spoke once again. “I fuckin’ forgot about her.” The admission seemed to weigh heavy on him as you watched Richie sink in on himself, his shoulders losing the tenseness they usually held as he moved to sit on the stool at his side plopping down on it unceremoniously.

“That night she uh…Eva just started crying about how scared she was, how she thought she wouldn’t see me again. And it sounds ridiculous as I say it, but she’s a fuckin’ kid ya know everything is the end of the world to her.”

You didn’t interrupt him, allowing the man to speak about a situation that took up a lot of space in his mind. It wasn’t your place to listen and comfort the man across from you, but the two of you were already so messily entangled with each other that you couldn’t bring yourself to stop his venting.

“You uh…you didn’t deserve all that shit I gave you at the restaurant, I was just blaming you for my fuck up, using you as a fuckin’ punching bag. So I uh…I want to apologize 'cause I was being a fuckin’ jagoff disrepectin’ you and shit by bringing up the parking lot.” He’d finally looked up at you, his cheeks tinged pink in embarrassment looking as though he’d just been scolded for his transgressions against you.

“I’m sorry for speakin’ to you like that, it wasn’t right and you didn’t deserve it.” The intensity of his gaze froze you in your spot as he bestowed you with a proper apology. “And thank you for looking out for Eva the way you do.”

You nodded, sending him a tight smile as you let his words soak in appreciating the fact that he was aware of just how uncouth trying to shame you about the moment you shared with him in the parking lot was. If you were a worse person you would’ve allowed him to take the brunt of the blame, and as much as you hated admitting you were at fault for something, the least you could do was match his vulnerability with a sincere apology of your own.

“Thank you Mr. Jerimo-,” you paused as his index finger gently tapped the center of your palm, eyes landing on yours as he shook his head with a slight frown, the understanding washed over you immediately. “Richie…thank you for apologizing. But you should know that I only said those things out of anger, and I know that’s no excuse…I just lashed out intending to hurt you. And I’m sorry for using your insecurities against you.”

It felt immature as the words left your lips, finally speaking aloud your reasoning for even insinuating that he was a bad parent. And maybe it was just wishful thinking but it felt as though the two of you understood each other just a bit more, not that the conversation was deep enough for anything of the sort but through all your run-ins with him you’d gathered that he didn’t respond well to his parenting being called into question.

Your eyes fell to your palm where the pad of his finger remained, the lightest bit of pressure still there. The organ in your chest picked up speed as you watched the appendage slowly begin moving further across your palm skating closer and closer to your pulse point all you could do was watch, the feeling of yearning you felt just a few short months ago returning more intensely than the last time.

“Eva has a bracelet similar to this.” His whisper was accompanied by his thumb swiping across the skin of your wrist just under the material of the bracelet. You felt frozen as his eyes looked up to meet yours, thumb grazing back and forth as he waited for an answer.

You gave a slight nod trying to ignore how touch-starved you felt, the calloused pad of his thumb provided you with such a small comfort you weren’t aware you were yearning for. “I know,” your eyes bounced between his eyes. “It was the last day of school activity I did with the kids.”

Richie’s thumb caressed the vein on your wrist once more, a gentle back-and-forth guiding motion. You watched as a tiny grin curved the side of his mouth, and his eyes fell back to the accessory snuggly wrapped around your wrist.

He thought it was cute the way you wore something you made with your students long after they moved on from you. His heart warming at the thought of Eva being taught by someone as thoughtful and as kind as you, well at least when it comes to children. A stray thought raced through his mind wondering if life would ever offer him the chance of surrounding himself with someone like you. As his thumb continued to absentmindedly trace back and forth across your pulse point he came to the harrowing realization that what he longed for wasn’t someone like you; it was you.

You watched in real-time as the small smile dropped from Richie’s lips and his thumb stilled on your wrist before snatching his arm away as though he’d been burned. Your eyebrows creased in confusion at the visceral reaction making you question if you did something to unknowingly cause it.

Richie’s tall figure rising from the barstool guided your eyes, “Thanks for the water, but I should head out.” His words sent a wave of dismay through you as you quickly schooled your features, nodding along to his words as you tried to put on a neutral front watching as he walked around the island towards the front door.

You followed after him, mind straying to the article of clothing that hung in your closet. He hadn’t asked for it back but you intended to return it to him all this time and the longer you stood there thinking about it the harder it felt to willingly part with the jacket. Was it weird of you to want to keep it for just a little longer? The thought left as easily as it came when Richie began unlocking your door and another more pressing matter came to the forefront of your mind.

“Richie,” his slender form turned around faster than you expected and you looked into his eyes unsure of how to word your next sentence, the fleeting idea of asking him to stay crossed your mind before you wrangled your thoughts and settled back on your initial inquisition. “I uh know it’s been a few months but I just wanted to make sure…no one knows about that night, right?”

You felt vulnerable under his stare as you watched his eyes flash in recognition slowly roving over your figure, drinking you in like you were the last bit of water on earth before he cleared his throat looking into your eyes once more, a slight dusting of pink atop his cheeks. You held his gaze trying to ignore the tension-filled air as you were more than positive both of you were silently remembering the short-lived affair of that night.

A quiet intake of breath filled the living area of your apartment as you allowed Richie to close the distance between the two of you, his fingers slowly reaching out entangling with yours, the two of you enraptured by the other’s stare. A moment of silence passed between the two of you before his unoccupied hand hesitantly reached up nimble digits softly ghosting the side of your neck, eyebrows raising in question as you offered him a small nod of approval before his hand came to gently grip your neck, his gaze never once leaving yours.

“I told you that night nothing was gonna happen didn’t I?” The way the rough pad of his thumb stroked back and forth against the side of your neck had your eyes fluttering shut as you leaned further into his body head slowly nodding along to his words. “No one saw us. I promised you that…and I wasn’t gonna let anything happen to you even if someone did.”

Your eyes fluttered open as you felt the breath of his sentence against your lips. The hand entangled with your fingers slowly traced a path up your arm guiding over the bracelet on your wrist and ghosting over your pulse point before settling on your tricep, his thumb massaged gentle circles into the muscle in tandem with his other thumb moving from caressing the side of your neck to your jawline.

The two of you easily could’ve stayed in that position all night just basking in each other’s gaze, the both of you teetering dangerously on the edge of this will they won’t they game you both seemed adamant to indulge in. You found yourself standing in his embrace imagining what things would be like between the two of you if that night went further than it did, maybe you wouldn’t be standing here in your apartment wishing that one of you was brave enough to make the next move and send the two of you spiraling into whatever kept drawing you back to the other.

It was almost imperceptible and if it wasn’t for his nose gently bumping against yours as he breathed you wouldn’t have realized he leaned in. You wanted more than a lean in, you wanted to feel his kiss against your lips, to allow his work-weathered hands to map out your body. But as you searched his eyes you realized his uncertainty matched yours, you could meet him halfway easily and maybe that’s all you needed to do. To let Richie know you were just as unsure as he was, but you were willing to test the waters as long as he was.

A moment of hesitation passed before your eyes fluttered shut once more as an insurmountable amount of want swelled in you as you allowed yourself to take what you wanted, what was willfully being offered to you. Your free hand reached up to press into Richie’s chest just before you leaned in softly slotting your lips against his, pressing a gentle apprehensive kiss onto his lips appreciating the way his hand just under your jaw gave a slight squeeze when you moved to pull away, carefully keeping you in place increasing the tenderness of the kiss, the hairs of his mustache tickling the tip of your nose.

Pushing off his chest caused your lips to slowly detach from his, your eyes not daring to open as his forehead pressed into yours, lips ghosting together with each breath you shared. You could feel his hand flexing against your neck, your hand burning as you felt his heartbeat against it. A gasp escaped your lips as his hand left your bicep to grip the other side of your neck tilting your head back just slightly, your eyes shot open to quietly watch as one of his thumbs glided across the seam of your lips with a sense of awe.

Richie’s pupil seemed to swallow the blue of his irises as you looked into his eyes watching in wait as his eyes darted around your face cataloging whatever features he could get his eyes on before finding yours once more. On instinct your hand that wasn’t on his chest moved to grip his left wrist, fingers delicately tracing the veins on his hand before subtly turning your face into his wrist and placing a lingering kiss to his pulse point relishing in the quiet groan that rumbled through his chest.

Having Richie in your apartment like this was dangerous, but as the shrill ringtone of an incoming call rang through your apartment you couldn’t help but feel disappointed that another moment with the man was interrupted, maybe for the best. You weren’t sure if the deep breath he let loose was in disappointment or relief as the heat of his forehead moved from yours followed by the roughness of his palms and he stepped out of your space before reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone.

“Hey little monster what’s going on?” You watched Richie’s back as he spoke into the phone shame filling you at the thought of telling him not to answer when the phone initially rang now that you knew it was Eva on the other line.

You tried to calm your racing heart hoping it wasn’t visibly obvious just how much the man affected you in such little time. You weren’t sure what to do with yourself having never felt awkward and out of place in your apartment before, knowing that you looked ridiculous just standing where the older man left you as you tuned out his conversation, instead moving to the frame he picked up earlier and adjusting it to its rightful place so you at least didn’t look like you were just waiting for him to finish his conversation.

The clearing of Richie’s throat from where you left him had you spinning around to face him trying to keep your eyes locked on his face even though seeing him stand there with his tie loosened and hands in his slacks made your mind race with dozens of scenarios.

“I should be getting home.” Richie’s rough voice reached your ears and the earlier disappointment returned tenfold.

You nodded, sending a forced understanding smile his way, moving to once again close the distance between you two only stopping just before you invaded his personal space folding your hands in front of yourself and trying to appear as unaffected as possible. “Thank you for the ride, I'll uh pay you back.”

“You think I helped you today 'cause I wanted somethin’ from you?” His voice dropped an octave as he straightened up eyes moving all across your face as he awaited your response.

You hesitantly shook your head at his words unsure if you could string a coherent sentence together with the way just his look heated you. You stood silent as he took a step forward invading your personal space once more, not that you minded as you allowed his hands to grip your waist lazily holding you in place as though he knew you had zero urge to be rid of him or his touch.

No words were spoken as you allowed his hand to slowly glide from its place on your hip up the curve of your torso biting your lip at the touch before once more finding purchase cupping the underside of your jaw and forcing you to hold his stare.

“I helped you because I wanted to.” His hand slowly began its descent down your neck before skating across the bare skin of your clavicle and landing atop the strap of your dress, fingers gently playing with the fabric. “Don’t think you owe me anything for it okay?”

Richie’s eyebrows raised as several seconds ticked by without a response from you, hand giving a soft squeeze to your shoulder in a bid for you to show him you understood.

“Okay.” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper as you gently nodded enraptured with the trance he seemed to put you in.

“Good,” the timber of his voice was punctuated by his thumb and forefinger slowly pushing the strap of your dress off your shoulder, leaving the skin fully exposed to the cool air of your apartment, his eyes burning into you as he caressed the space your strap once sat. “You should get out of these clothes and get some sleep.”

You stood still as he leaned in to place a soft kiss on your forehead before removing himself and leaning in to brush an opened mouth kiss against the skin of your shoulder. He pulled back before you could even ask for more, you watched as he gave you one more longing look before turning his back to you and taking his leave.

Quiet music drifted through your apartment as you sat in your living room. A relaxing glass of wine sat on the coffee table next to the puzzle you started working on not long after Xiomara left, your nighttime shower and skincare routine having already been knocked out. You usually didn’t stay up this late, but your weekly dinner with Xio ended later than usual as the two of you filled each other in on anything interesting that happened in your lives, including your little back-and-forth with a certain older man.

The sound of knocking drew your attention, you brushed it off as your neighbor. They were always up doing random shit at this time. Another round of knocks led your eyes to your door. You realized there in fact was someone knocking on your door at almost midnight. You were happy to just ignore it as it seemed whoever the culprit was gave up due to the silence but the sound of quiet cursing raised your curiosity so you rose from your position on the floor deciding to check the peephole.

As you gazed through the peephole you were surprised to see Richie’s figure turning to head back down the hallway presumably to the elevator. Confusion swept through you as you tried to think of any reason he would be at your door so late at night only to come up empty. In a split second without much thought, you were undoing the locks on your door before swinging it open.

“Richie?” Your quiet call of his name stopped him in his tracks, eyes burning into his back as you waited for him to face you curious about his presence. “It’s almost midnight, is everything okay?”

You tried to think of any reasons he would be in the hallway leading to your apartment at this time, surprised to see that he even remembered where you lived. He spun on his heel to face you, your eyes darted around his figure to make sure there wasn’t anything physically wrong with him but found he seemed to be unscathed dressed in what you were still getting used to being his usual attire; a dress shirt and tie with slacks sans a jacket.

His lack of speaking was worrying you, and you were sure a few nosy neighbors would quickly poke their heads out if you continued speaking out into the hallway any longer.

“Did you want to…come in?” The confusion was evident in your voice but you felt relieved as he gave a slight nod before making his way back to your door and stepping into your apartment. He walked past you as you closed and locked your door trying to figure out what the next steps were in this situation.

You moved to walk around him, sending a small smile his way as his eyes followed you, “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need me to call anyone?”

It was like Richie realized just how weird he was being showing up on your doorstep late at night, offering you no words or explanation. Maybe it was the worry in your voice that finally got through to him. “No sorry I uh,” he paused, clearing his throat before settling into the man you were used to interacting with, taking a small step forward into your space. “I wanted to see you.”

The sincerity in his words took you by surprise, and a flurry of emotions swam through you, relief that nothing was seriously wrong with the man followed by a fluttering in your chest at the idea of him randomly showing up on your doorstep just to see you.

“Oh.” The lackluster reply was the best you could do as you tried to reign in the way a simple sentence made you feel.

Richie’s chuckle drew you from the thoughts racing in your mind eyes meeting his as he watched you, almost like he could see your thought process, “You uh look pretty busy though sorry for interruptin’ you.”

You followed as his eyes looked to the coffee table over your shoulder, a smile lining your lips as you turned to look back at him, a false sense of confidence radiating through you. You reached out for one of his hands taking a step forward to close the minuscule distance separating the two of you and gazing into his eyes as your chest brushed against his with every breath.

“Did you want to help?” You couldn’t help the way your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips then to his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. Your mind envisioned a myriad of sinful ideas about his beard before you cleared your throat to find his gaze once more.

A more serious look settled across his face as his own eyes were preoccupied with something else before he gave a small nod in agreement.

“Yo no! There’s no fuckin’ rules to puzzles.” Richie’s voice boomed through your apartment as he pointed at the puzzle pieces in front of each of you.

Laughter bubbled out of you at how passionate his argument was becoming, you weren’t sure if it was the wine getting to you or if the lack of animosity between the two of you was finally allowing you to relax in Richie’s presence.

The pounding on your kitchen wall made you jump in your seat surprised by the noise but unsurprised by the yelling that followed, “Shut the fuck up over there!”

“Oh fuck you!”

You raised a finger to your lips trying to get Richie to quiet down as you fought to control your laughter, not wanting to wake up with a noise complaint taped to your door. You watched as the frown on Richie’s face smoothed out before a smile grew on his face and his laughter emerged.

A small smile remained on your face as you replied to Richie’s earlier grievance, “Everyone knows you build the border of the puzzle first.” You pointed down to the border you’d barely added to since Richie’s arrival, instead allowing him to regale you with what his night consisted of, surprised to find that he’d been just a floor below you for most of the night with friends and you never would’ve known if he hadn’t decided to visit you.

Richie sucked his teeth before looking at the puzzle pieces you pointed at, shaking his head as though they offended him, “No, you leave the border for last cause it’s the easiest. Brings the whole picture together.”

You didn’t want to admit that his point was valid so you shook your head in disagreement, “Come on, building the border is like building the foundation of the puzzle.” Your hand traced the bit you’d put together so far before motioning to the irregular-shaped pieces. “Then you just keep building it up piece by piece, the fun is in realizing that even if certain pieces don’t fit together everything has its rightful place and once you’ve done all the building you get to see all your work pay off.

The weight of Richie’s gaze felt heavy on you as he allowed your words to sink in, having no initial comeback wasn’t something you were used to. You gave him a small smile the longer he stared at you before fingering through the puzzle pieces and deciding to continue it.

“You always spew weirdly poetic shit at 1 a.m.?” The smile in Richie’s voice was apparent before you even looked up, his lips upturned softly as he stared at your hands idly messing with the pieces on his side of the coffee table.

You shrugged your eyes shooting at his pile of pieces before reaching over to grab a piece that looked like it might fit, “I’m usually not entertaining guests past midnight.”

Richie gave a noncommittal hum of acknowledgment as his focus landed back on the puzzle pieces scattered around the table, the two of you basking in each other's calming presence as you worked to finish the puzzle, quiet words exchanged regarding which pieces fit where.

With a quarter of the puzzle left to complete you found your eyes straying to Richie more often than probably necessary, watching the concentration on his face as he aligned pieces where they fit. It was odd seeing him so calm in your presence considering how rocky your relationship started with him, you didn’t think you’d ever willingly let him into your safe space let alone enjoy having him there.

“How’s that doctor of yours?” Richie’s words pulled you from your study of him.

Confusion marred your features at the tightness of his voice, he showed up on your doorstep at one in the morning and that’s what he was fucking asking you about?

He caught your eye as he looked up eyebrows raised in question, “I can give you his number if you’re that interested in him.”

The loud scoff from across the table made you smile, “What about you? Any luck with the dating apps?”

Richie’s knee knocked against yours and you weren’t sure if it was on purpose or accident, but as you looked up you realized he’d been watching you for some time, “Decided I’m done with all that shit.”

A chill raced down your spine at how sure he sounded, and maybe it was wishful thinking or you were just being full of yourself, but you couldn’t help but think you were the reason for that decision. You cleared your throat unsure of what to say as you let your attention fall back to the puzzle on the table, it was comical the ease with which you could argue with the older man. But these polite flirtatious conversations just felt different, the underlying tension in them felt different and you weren’t sure how to go about dealing with it. The quiet clearing of Richie’s throat and the slight removal of his knee from the space your legs were internally made you cringe. He was expecting a much different reaction from his statement.

Quiet descended upon the two of you once more as you tried to keep your focus on finishing the puzzle, only for your mind to constantly drift with all the things you wanted to admit to Richie in that moment. You remembered clearly the day when he told you all those months ago that you were a constant in his mind and now all you could do was wonder if this is what it felt like for him. The way your mind latched onto him after the parking lot didn’t feel healthy but you couldn’t pretend you didn’t want more of his time, more of his presence even when he pissed you off to no end.

You smiled to yourself at the thought of it all, once more looking up from the puzzle to find Richie so engrossed with the pieces he was putting together. You couldn’t be sure but outside of Eva being around, this felt like the calmest you’d seen him in your presence. The tension in his shoulders seemed almost nonexistent, his face was relaxed and not at all filled with whatever stress the day brought him. It was like a different person was sitting in your living room, no animosity filled the air between the two of you and the longer you let your eyes rove his face the more confident you were that you liked this version of Richie best.

Hesitantly your hand reached across the table before gently landing atop Richie’s, watching as his eyes moved from the puzzle pieces to your hand on his then to your face. You bit your bottom lip before speaking, “If I asked you to stay the night only because I was worried about you getting home safely what would you say to that?”

The thudding of your heart made you sure it was trying to beat out of your chest the longer Richie sat there staring at you without saying anything. A part of you wished you could take it back, it was a lame excuse, but you could never be too sure with the older man and this option seemed to offer less teasing than if you asked him to spend the night with you outright.

“I would say,” His words were followed by his hand turning over so his palm was just under yours, the roughness of his fingertips brushing against your wrist as he held your gaze. “It’d be rude of me to disregard your hospitality, leave you here all alone late at night worried about me. So I’d stay to ease your worries.”

“Good.” A small knowing smile lined your lips before you removed your hand from under his, making sure to grab your empty wine glass and standing.

As you made it to the sink and began washing out the glass, you felt like you were too far out of your depth. Maybe you overestimated whatever false confidence being around Richie gave you, but didn’t you deserve to go after something you wanted? Richie was an adult and you were sure if he had no interest he would’ve left whenever he was ready, hell he wouldn’t have even shown up in the first place. You rinsed out the glass before setting it on the drying mat.

You turned to find Richie sitting on your couch with the book from the side table in his hands. Smiling as you walked towards him stopping to stand in front of him as he looked up at you, the desire to touch him had your hands pushing his legs apart giving you enough space to stand in between them as he leaned back further into the couch manspreading gently placing your book down next to him.

Your hands unconsciously rubbed up and down the fabric over his thighs as you stood as close to him as the couch would allow, your right hand slowly traced up his thigh following the anatomy of his body up his torso before your hand landed on his slightly loosened tie.

“You know for a while, I couldn’t stop thinking about that night…thinking about you,” you paused as your fingers nimbly began to undo his tie. “And then you drove me home last week and for a moment I thought I’d finally be able to have you in the way I wanted.”

The warmth of his hand reaching out to cup the back of your thigh raised your confidence even higher, carefully climbing atop his lap as he tugged you closer caging him in between your legs. Your hands landed on his shoulder before caressing down his chest and landing on the top button of his dress shirt. Richie’s hands landed upon your own, your lust-filled eyes taking in the apprehensive look on his face. You paused, unsure of yourself before you moved to get up only to stop when his hand fell to your waist keeping you in place.

“Did I do something wrong?” Your brows furrowed in confusion and you couldn’t help how small and insecure your voice sounded.

You moved your hands back to his shoulders trying to create a bit of space between you two looking at a spot over his head instead of at him.

“No, hey look at me,” one of Richie’s hands moved up to cup your chin, gently turning you to face him.“All of this shit…it’s just new to me you know I don’t know how to do this casual shit.” His thumb lightly rubbed across your chin, the vulnerability in his eyes and words keeping you locked in.

“I haven’t done shit like this in years, never thought I’d be divorced trying this shit again. Believe me, I want tonight with you, but what happens after that? Am I supposed to just fuck off and act like I don’t want more with you?”

Slowly your hand moved across his shoulder before softly cupping the side of his neck. It wasn’t the time to mention it but you couldn’t help but feel even more attracted to the man in front of you as he shared the insecurities he was feeling about the growing attraction between the two of you.

“You enjoy tonight,” your thumb traced a path up the side of his neck eliciting a shiver. “We indulge in each other, in our desires and then we go from there. Maybe breakfast in the morning.” You smiled at him watching the tense line of his silhouette relax. “I don’t know what’s going to come from this…but I know I don’t want this to just be one night.”

Your words lingered in the air as the two of you stared at each other, Richie’s smile growing to match yours as the two of you kept your hands on each other's skin. The way Richie stared at you brought back that familiar warmth he always seemed to elicit within you, his pupils slowly dilated as they roved over your face.

The previous tension between the two of you before the turn of conversation ignited once more, your eyes locked on the others as though in a trance. The feeling of his fingertips tracing the skin of your bottom lip made you feel dizzy at the thought of how easy it would be for him to touch you however he wanted, sent a surge of desire coursing through you. You could see the realization flash across his face his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as his fingers that once pressed into your hip began a featherlight trail under your shirt and up the skin of your back, your teeth latching onto your bottom lip at the delicate touches your eyes fluttered as he traced his way along your spine your shirt rising the higher his hand moved his fingers ghosted across the space between your shoulder blades pushing you further into his chest.

Richie’s hand gently grazed down your back leaving goosebumps in its wake as it found your hip once more pulling you down against him your quiet moan being drowned out by his unabashed groan as you settled atop him relishing in the way the hardness in his pants pressed up against you. His mouth fell open as his blunt nails dug into the skin of your hip before his hand skirted down the side of your hip traveling further and further before it met the skin of your leg below the hem of your sleep shorts, his calloused hand running just under the cut of your ass before cupping the back of your thigh, the heat from the palm of his hand warmed your thigh before he gripped your skin his thumb located near your groin slipping under the fabric of your shorts to caress the junction of your hip so close to where you wanted to feel him most a wanton moan escaping you as you unconsciously trapped his hand between your bodies and began rubbing yourself against him needing any bit of reprieve you could get.

His labored breathing hit your face as you allowed yourself to grind against him without consequence, your eyes fluttering in pleasure at not only the feeling but the way he was allowing you to use him to make yourself feel every bit of pleasure you deserved to feel. A high pitched keen left your lips as his free hand tugged the collar of your shirt before attaching his lips to your neck sucking and biting any piece of skin he could get his mouth on.

“R-Richie.” Your moan of his name was followed by his hips rutting up into you, his mouth falling open against your collarbone as he spewed out soft curses against your skin. It was all too much and not enough at once a part of you having no problem dry-humping your way to an orgasm but selfishly you wanted him in every way he was willing to give himself to you. You wanted to know how his body would feel against yours, what he looked like under all the layers of clothing separating the two of you, what he felt like. You needed to know what he would look like atop you and what expressions would he make as he fucked himself into you, in and out in and out. Or maybe missionary wasn’t his thing, what would it feel like if he took you from behind his body crowding you in would he be gentle or would he fuck you in the way he thought you deserved harsh thrusts and bruising slaps to your ass as he punished you for all the attitude you gave him.

The thoughts racing through your mind had you grinding down faster and harder than you previously were. The tension building inside of you on the cusps of shattering through you, just a little more, and you’d be convulsing against the man below you who brought out so many emotions in you. The rough feeling of his lips finding yours startled you not realizing that your equilibrium was off until your back pressed into the carpet below a muffled whine ringing through you at the loss of contact you were once grinding against.

“Quit your fuckin’ whining and let me take care of you,” you felt like you were going insane as his hands slowly slipped under the waistband of your shorts dragging them down your hips and legs at a painstakingly slow pace. “Been wanting you like this ever since that night in the fucking parking lot.” His words were so quiet you weren’t sure you would’ve heard them otherwise, your body clenching against nothing as the cool air of the living room met the slickness spread between your legs.

You sat up on your elbows watching from your position on the floor in a daze as Richie stood above you eyes glued to your cunt as he hastily unbuttoned his shirt shrugging out of it before pulling the white tank top beneath it over his head. You let out an appreciative moan at the sight of the softness of his body wanting to run your hands over the planes of his torso, lavish him with the attention he deserved. You pushed off your elbows on instinct fingers wrapping into the belt loops of his dress pants catching him off guard as your lips met the softness of his tummy leaving eager kisses to whatever spots you could reach as he towered over your sitting form. Your hands moved eagerly from their position, one fiddling with his belt buckle wanting him to feel half of the pleasure he brought you in such little time as the other palmed his bulge through the material.

A surprised gasp ripped through your lips as his hand found the back of his neck pulling you off of him, the desire swimming in his eyes heating you even more. His hand moved from the back of your neck before cupping your jaw and tilting your head further up, you were surprised by the softness of his kiss your eyes closing on instinct as you relaxed into him, his hand on your jaw squeezing as he snuck his tongue into your mouth the appendage running across your own several times over as you followed his lead the passion in which he kissed something you never experienced before. You began maneuvering around trying to raise yourself wanting to feel more of him against you, until he pulled away your shared saliva connecting the two of you as he looked down on you. There was only a moment’s reprieve before his mouth was on yours again his lips moving so slow and sensually, this kiss was different from the very few you shared with him both of his hands now cupping your jaw as he lavished you with everything he had his lips wrapping around your much smaller tongue his head bobbing back and forth as he slowly sucked on your tongue before reluctantly pulling himself away, your eyes finally opening at the feel of his thumb caressing your cheek as he stared down at you with a look you couldn’t quite place.

“Lay back f’me.” Richie’s words were whispered against your lips as you mindlessly obeyed lifting your shirt from under your bottom before leaning back on your elbows and then flat on your back.

You could hear his breath hitching as you found the confidence to spread your legs open so every bit of you was on full display. You waited in anticipation listening as he undid his belt before his pants landed somewhere away from the two of you, he gripped your ankle first, fingers skating up the skin of your leg in a slow almost teasing way as he traced a path up to your hip hand gliding across the skin of your stomach before stopping at the hem of your shirt and gently pushing it over the curve of your breast.

There wasn’t any time for nervousness to grip you as he settled between your legs, his head bending as he placed a soft kiss into the center of your chest. You could feel your heartbeat speed up as one of the hands he was using to hold himself up cupped the weight of your breast, the heat of his calloused palm drew a moan from you. A quiet gasp filled the living room as Richie kissed his way down your chest stopping to lavish your pebbled nipples in kisses before sucking one into his mouth.

The urge to cry out at finally being laid bare for him as he worked you up sat heavily in you. Your eyes fluttered shut as he rose from your breast with a pop. The cool air making it even harder as he moved to show your other nipple the same appreciation. The feel of his teeth grazing across the nerve jolted you a quiet whine followed the movement as you gave in to just how good he was making you feel. You enjoyed the last few moments of pleasure his mouth gave your chest before he began to leave wet kisses down your torso as your legs squeezed around him in search of friction.

Richie’s quiet laughter vibrated against the bottom of your stomach before he moved to scoot back dropping kisses to your hip as he settled himself at eye level between your thighs. His groan reached your ears as he stared at all of your bare to him a whispered “fuck” followed before his lips were attached to the inside of your thigh earning him a guttural moan.

A gasp rang through the air as you felt Richie’s finger slowly trace the circle of your anatomy, you strained to look down your body just as the tip of his finger ever so slightly stretched you out, your hooded gaze finding his blue eyes already staring at you a flush blooming across his face. He held your gaze as he followed the same circular motion this time pushing his finger into the second knuckle as you bit your lip knowing it was way too late in the night for the noises you wanted to make.

Richie’s finger slowly moved inside you experimentally before finding the pattern that made you clench around him and crooked his finger inside your expertly eyes never leaving yours. “You gonna let me hear those pretty noises while I eat you out?”

The rough timber of Richie’s voice had you clenching around his finger, his tongue poked out to lick his lips as he patiently awaited your response maneuvering his finger slower with each second that passed. Your head moved up and down rapidly, sure you’d begin crying if he teased you anymore. “Y-yes Richie, please.”

You were thankful for the care he took when removing his long finger, the feel of every inch of it reverberated through you. He gave you one last small smile before his head disappeared, arms moving to snake around your thighs as his hands landed atop of them wearing your legs over his shoulders as though they were roller coaster restraints.

The first lick of his tongue from your hole to your clit had your head thudding back against the floor ignoring the pain of it as you moaned. Richie’s teeth sinking into your inner thigh caused a delicious hiss of pain to race through you, “Be careful.” You hummed in acquiescence, anything to keep him pleasuring you.

Richie’s tongue pressed flatly against you licking several languid stripes through your folds, each stroke of his thick warm wet appendage mingled erotically with your slickness as the mixture of fluids slowly dripped down you. At the feel of his tongue dipping in and out of you your stomach constricted in pleasure before your hands found purchase on the back of his head trying to anchor yourself to this moment with him. Vibrations from his moans traveled through you adding to the building pleasure along with the way his nose caught your clit just right as he dined on you like a man starved.

You couldn’t help the way you began grinding against his face chasing your release. You’d never been catered to like this before and as his arms moved to hold you down, mouth traveling through your folds before suctioning to your clit you were sure you were seeing stars. The muscles in your stomach tightened the longer and harder he sucked on you, your head grew fuzzy as the knot in your stomach grew tighter, incoherent babbling falling from your lips with each moment.

A loud whine rang through the quiet of your apartment as you finally gave in to your orgasm, you convulsed against Richie’s mouth as the waves of pleasure flowed through you. The aftershocks of it all caused you to jolt against him as you rode through your orgasm, overstimulation brought you back down to earth as you struggled to sit up finding Richie still attached to you.

“R-Richie,” a moan cut off your plea as you found yourself struggling not to succumb to the wickedness of his tongue. “Too much, i-its too much.”

Slowly Richie released himself from your placing a gentle kiss against your clit that jolted you before he leaned back on his haunches eyeing how debauched you looked. Your eyes traced the wetness that decorated his chin following the trail of your slickness into his now shiny beard before landing on the wet spot on his chest as it rose and fell.

Seeing him like this had you clenching around nothing as your hooded eyes fell to his happy trail, wanting nothing more than to return the pleasure. A silent conversation passed between the two of you before Richie stood up causing you to eagerly rise to your knees as you shuffled over to him before hungrily pulling down his boxers.

You stared up at him in appreciation, allowing your eyes to take in every line of him. The softness of his body was a welcomed surprise, he was strong you could see it in his arms and legs, there was no denying that. But you could tell he enjoyed life, indulged in what he liked, no rigid routine of diet or exercise. As you drank him in you couldn’t help but let your eyes fall to the tuft of light brown hair between his legs home to the part of him you’d been waiting to experience.

Unconsciously you licked your lips before shuffling closer on your knees, one hand moving to grip his hip as you steadied yourself before holding the weight of him in your hand, marveling at his impressive erection. The feel of your hand softly caressing up and down his length drew a throaty groan from him as you watched pre-cum drip from his tip in pleasure.

You leaned forward tongue darting out instantly to swirl around the head of his cock needing to hear the noises he would elicit. You were rewarded with a softer moan looking up to see his head thrown back. Opening wide you took the weight of him in your mouth taking in what you could without gagging, moaning around him as the tuft of hairs gently touched your face. Richie’s moans of approval egged you on small back-and-forth movements were your starting point bobbing slowly against him with your eyes closed as sucking him off increased your pleasure.

As you bobbed faster against him your nails dug into the flesh of his hip, your tongue swirling around him as you listened to his mumbled curses. Richie’s hand moved to settle against your neck anticipation growing in you as you waited for him to fuck your face only to be disappointed when he gently pulled you off of him spittle on your lip the only thing connecting you to his cock.

You looked up in confusion, chest rising and falling rapidly as you fought to steady your breathing. Before you could question him he was leaning down to meet you the softness of his kiss not matching your previously voracious ministrations. You leaned into the kiss not at all minding how slowly his lips moved against you passion radiating through both ends of the kiss both of you getting a taste of the other.

Richie’s lips chased yours as you pulled away his eyes slowly opened to find you already staring at him, he cupped your jaw pressing a kiss into your forehead before helping you to stand. Once you were steady on your feet you placed your hand on his chest guiding him back into the loveseat in the corner of your living room watching as his body unceremoniously plopped down, his legs spread wide as his erection bounced off the surface of his stomach.

You moved to kneel in front of him once more, stopping as a hand gripped the front of your sleep shirt pulling on it to get you to climb atop him, resuming your earlier position. You sat above him on your knees, hands resting against his shoulders to hold yourself up doing your best to ignore just how close he was to being inside you.

“What’re you poutin’ for?” Richie’s voice was quiet as his fingers tapped against your lips.

You hadn’t meant to showcase your discontent but now that he brought it up you felt comfortable in voicing what bothered you. “Why’d you stop me?” You realized how immature your ire was as you spoke the words, annoyance growing towards yourself as you were sure you ruined the night.

“It’s nothin’ against you I promise,” his free hand moved to your side skating under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your hip. “Just not sure I’d be able to give you more if I let you do that.”

It was like every little thing about this man kept turning you on, understanding washed over your face as you pulled your lip between your teeth having to stop yourself from sinking onto him. The wheels turn in your head at just how starved of intimacy he must be.

“Has it been that long?” You weren’t sure why you asked, you had zero desire to hear about the intimacy he shared with anyone else but his explanation made you curious.

Your hands unconsciously rubbed into his shoulders helping him to release any tension this intermission might have brought forth.

“Too long,” you bit back a moan as both of his hands skated along the naked skin of your hips, dipping so close to where you wanted him. “I take care of myself though.”

His answer intrigued you, just thinking about him alone in his home late at night using his hand to pleasure himself. You hummed in interest as you looked down on him, your right hand on his shoulder traced a path down his chest appreciating the fact you were finally able to touch the softness of him. Your hand continued traveling down running through his happy trail before finally gripping him in your hand finding him still semi-heard as he moaned at the feeling of your hand wrapped around him.

You languidly stroked him a few times watching the motion as you did so before looking back up at him to find his head tossed back against the loveseat, your free hand moving to grip his chin and force him to focus on you.

“What do you think about when you touch yourself,” you lowered yourself just enough to run the tip of his cock through your wetness choking down a moan. “Because I think about you.”

Richie let out a quiet curse before speaking. “Yeah?” His voice was breathy as he forced himself to hold your stare, his hands pressed into your hips with a vice-like grip as he helped to rock you back and forth against him.

“Mhmm,” you nodded your head trying to pretend you were unfazed by how delicious it felt every time his head caught your clit. “After you left my apartment the other night…I spread out right where you're sitting and played with myself wishing it was you.”

Richie let out a guttural groan as he thrusted up into your hand surging forward to attach his lips to your neck surprising you with the vigor alternating between open mouth kisses and sucking just hard enough for you to know where his lips decorated your neck through feeling alone, but not harsh enough to leave any evidence.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me if you keep talking like this and don’t let me fuck you.” Richie’s hands raced over any inch of skin he could find just needing to touch you in any way possible.

You lined yourself up with him, drunk on the obvious need he was exhibiting and it was all because of you. Slowly you lowered yourself, relishing in the tip of his cock as it burrowed inside of you, the movement earned the older man's full attention.

“Who said you were fucking me?”

Richie looked at you, mouth slightly agape at the feel of you slowly sliding down onto him, twin moans filling the apartment. He groaned, hands sliding around your hips to grip the curve of your ass to help you start moving.

It started slow, far too slow for two people who weren’t even sure they meant anything to each other but neither of you mentioned that, eyes locked on each other as you placed your hands on his shoulders using them to help steady yourself. Up, down…up, down.

“Arms up pretty girl,” Richie’s command was almost so quiet you didn’t hear it stopping as he held you down against him, moaning at the way he brushed that spot inside you just so. His hands moved from their place on your backside before gently tugging the hem of your shirt over your head whispering his approval at having you naked atop him.

Your hands found his shoulders once more as you began to ride him again. Speeding up as his lips found the curve of your breast and kissed across them. Richie filled you so well the length of him hitting just where you needed every time.

“That’s it, keep ridin’ me just like that. Fuck!” You threw your head back moaning at Richie’s words clenching around him at the idea of being coached through an orgasm he gave you.

A sharp gasp escaped you as he grabbed your backside once more, anchoring himself so he could thrust up into you helping add to your pleasure. You hadn’t been riding him for long but everything about this man drove you crazy, your up-and-down motions growing more restless the harder he thrust into you.

You arched against him, hands finding the back of his thighs as you rode him like your life depended on it chasing the high your last orgasm brought you.

“You look so pretty like this, you know that right? Look so pretty ridin’ me f-fuckin’ usin’ me to get off.” Richie’s hoarse voice was going straight to your clit encouraging you to keep going even though your quads burned. “Say it.”

A quiet hum of agreement left your lips as you continued your ministrations the pleasure you searched for not far away. Richie’s hand roughly gripped your jaw pulling you from the world you were in, forcing you to look into his eyes the pupils having swallowed the blue of his irises. “Let me hear you say it?”

“W-what?”

The grinding of your hips slowed down once more as Richie held you there, his hips undulating at a slower pace as well. “Tell me h-how pretty you look r-ridin’ me.” He choked on his words as the two of you moved in sync taking in equal what you were giving back to each other.

You clenched around him, mouth falling open at his command unsure if you could get the words out before cumming. You moved atop him as he gave you a lazy nod encouraging you, you nodded along with him trying to work up the courage as your hand moved from his thigh to rest above his heart the thumping rhythm of it imprinted on your palm.

“I…” your words cut off as his hips languidly rolled into you, the hand on your jaw moving to the back of your neck to pull your face closer, your forehead pressing into his. “I look s-so pretty riding you…l-like this.”

It was a struggle to get the words out but the way you clenched around him told the both of you just how aroused you were by the simple words. Richie let go of your neck allowing you to move back if you chose to but enjoying the way you stayed close to him, lips brushing against his with each move of your hips. One of his hands slipped between your bodies pressing into your clit as he simultaneously bucked into you with a fierce pace fucking you just how you wanted.

You wrapped your arms around his neck messily following his thrust chasing the pressure that built up in your stomach. Your nails raked down his shoulders as you babbled incoherent pleas into his ear essentially begging him to let you come.

No sooner were the words out of your lips did you cry out in ecstasy, tears escaped the corner of your eyes at how forceful your orgasm was your teeth sunk into Richie’s shoulder as you tried to silence your sobs of bliss body convulsing against him for the second time that night as he helped you ride out your orgasm.

You collapsed against him in bliss boneless feeling your equilibrium shift once more, Richie gently laid you on the love seat, one leg kneeling atop the cushion while his other leg held him up never once disconnecting the two of you.

Richie’s hips pistoned into you at a punishing pace, his grip on your hips bordering on painful as he held your body in place from his harsh thrust. You struggled to keep your eyes open wanting to watch him come. Richie’s loud grunts drowned out your quieter moans, both noises combining as you watched in awe as Richie chased his orgasm, desire rising within you once more just watching Richie use you in the way you used him only moments ago.

You watched in anticipation as Richie’s face scrunched up in concentration, his thrust becoming sloppier by the minute. You wanted to reach out to touch him but felt too blissed out to get your motor skills working instead enjoying the show being put on for you. Richie gave you two more harsh thrusts before quickly pulling out of you causing you to hiss at the suddenness and watch hungrily as his hand pumped himself one final time before he spilled all over your stomach and cunt, the sight of Richie riding out his orgasm burned into your brain.

Richie collapsed atop you uncaring that his cum was getting all over him. His forehead rested against your upper chest, his panting breaths cooling your heated skin. The two of you lay there in silence for a while, your hand coming up to run through his hair as exhaustion settled into you. The feeling of lips pressing into your sternum forced your eyes to flutter open.

A lazy smile lined your lips as you tilted your head to find Richie’s forehead pressed into your chest as he pressed gentle kisses across your sternum. A soft giggle escaped you at the ticklish feeling his facial hair left behind watching as he looked up at you his exhaustion matched yours.

“We gotta get you cleaned up.” His voice was hoarse as he spoke to you with his cheek pressed into your skin.

You gave a noncommittal hum in agreement moving to sit up as Richie stood hands out to help you up. You pulled him behind you as you headed to the shower ignoring the way Richie perked up as the two of you entered your bedroom before reaching the bathroom, moving to turn the shower on and waiting for the water to heat up.

Richie helped you step into the shower before willfully following after you. You stood under the water with your head resting on Richie’s chest letting the warmth relax your muscles as Richie wrapped his arms around you pressing a kiss into the crown of your head.

The end of your night was spent pressed against the shower wall as Richie sensually fucked into you from behind, both of you indulging in everything the other had to offer. Before you both finally showered and got into bed, the softness of Richie’s fingers tracing patterns into your skin lulled you into a peaceful sleep engulfed in his warmth.

a/n: ayee yo they fuckin’ over here!!! i swear i’m so funny anyway here’s part 2 finally its long but worth it i promise. i hope anyone that dedicated their time to this tome of a fic enjoyed it and your days are forever filled with joy. also talk to me about it i love shootin the shit about the unhinged fics i write. anyway love y’all besties!!! 🫶🏽💕

THIS IS WHAT THE DRUGS ARE FOR | spencer reid

good riddance x spencer reid one shot series masterlist

summary; when no one else helps spencer’s addiction after being kidnapped — you do, and you offer him help as a recovering addict yourself

warnings; mentions of kidnapping, early seasons reid, around the time of his addiction to dilauded, mentions of suicide, mentions of being shot (pass tense during a case) mentions relapsing, addiction to opioids mentions of being addicted to oxycodone, drug use, overdoses, hurt x comfort, angst, not a lot of romance but its sweet, fem reader, normal criminal minds stuff. mentions of the team completely ignoring spencers addiction bc that was messed up.

an; honestly this was difficult to write as a recovering oxycodone addict, a little bit self indulgent.. whoopsies!! but in honour of 5 years sober 🤗🤗 (i am too open with my issues on social media) this is probably horrible

‘This is what the drugs are for. Turn the lights off on the comedown I still get emotional, when I think about your old house. Hopefully, the high, works to change my mind’

You noticed quicker than you wanted to admit. It wasn’t like you could pinpoint a certain point, maybe it was when he turned back at you after standing up from the dead body of his kidnapper and you saw the way his pupils blew, something guilty behind them — maybe thats when your concern started.

You knew for certain when his focus was in and out daily. You knew everyone on the team had their suspicions, had the gut feeling that there was something more to the tiredness in Spencer’s eyes. You knew more than you wanted to admit.

Your hands twirled the pen on your fingers as your eyes stayed fixated on the male sitting in front of you, you watched as his hands came up to scratch the inside of his elbow. You knew the motion all too well, like muscle memory.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you heard Hotch ask a question to which only Spencer reid would know the answer to. You shifted your gaze slightly as you leant back in your chair, at his lack of response and focus.

It took Hotch saying his name a second time for his gaze to pull and a small apology to leave his lips. Hotch repeated the question and you watched as it took a minute too long for Spencer Reid’s all to long ramble to start about the detail.

Normally, someone would make a teasing comment about how Spencer had to think about it, but the tension stayed among the group as they all noticed the same thing — yet no one did anything about it.

You knew the feeling well, and it made your skin itch in anger.

Rossi handed out jobs, inviting you to stay back with Spencer to help with case work. You looked at Spencer noticed his eyes dropping, it made your chest ache.

Everyone else had left leaving you and Spencer in the conference room. Your gaze stayed fixated on him as his mind fell in and out of focus. You had to admit if you didn’t know Spencer Reid as well as you did, he hid it well.

“How long?” You muttered out, as your eyes pulled away from his to skim the case. You could feel his gaze on yours and you could practically feel the heavy breath that left his mouth.

His words came out snappy, but you knew he didn’t mean it. “What?”

You looked up at him again, seeing his gaze on yours, his pupils constricted and you could practically see the way his hand was twitching not to claw at the inside of his elbow.

You knew he knew what you meant, you knew he was playing dumb. You pulled the same thing for years. If he wanted to play the game you’d play, and you would outplay him every time. “How long have you been using?”

His face twisted up, he could’ve been an actor.

“Im not.” He pushed out. His voice betrayed his face, as it went an octave higher. For someone so smart you’d think he would know how to lie — but he didn’t, not well. Not to you. He could tell you didn’t believe him from the way your eyebrow quipped. “I don’t know why you’d think that.” He added, trying to sound convincing.

You hummed, “Your pupils are constricted for one. You aren’t focusing, you are all depressed. Oh and you’re slurring.. By the way” You pointed out with your pen in your hand directed towards him. You watched as his face fell for a split second. If you weren’t paying as much attention as you were you might’ve missed it.

But you were paying attention.

“Im just tired— and I have allergies ” He lied. It made you want to laugh at the familiarity of all his lies, the same ones you remember thinking you were so smart for thinking of in the moment so many years ago.

You let out an unconvinced ‘mhm’ as you nodded your head. You watched as it dawned in his eyes that he had been called out. You wondered if maybe he enjoyed the fact that no one pointed it out, until now, until you.

“I had allergies too, for a long time” You stated out simply, playing his game, outplaying him. Your goal here wasn’t to make him feel ashamed, in any way. It was purely to let him know that he wasn’t alone.

You remembered feeling so alone.

He spluttered slightly, his eyes widened the slightest bit. “What?” He breathed out, confused because he never would’ve guessed. You knew that. You knew the person you were now was nothing like the person you were a few years prior. You hid your addiction well but you were changed as a person, and you weren’t nearly the same person you were before the addiction.

You offered him a small smile, “I know an addict when I see one Reid, I know the addiction. I know your skin feels like it’s crawling right now and your head is probably spinning because you are going through withdrawals. I know all the lies, I used them all before” You said softly as you lean your forearms against the table; your eyes softened as your gaze stayed fixated on his.

You watched the words slowly process through his head. Slowly but surely he seemed to understand. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “How- How long have you known?” He asked, his voice small, evident how confronting this conversation was for him — but he needed it. He needed to know he had someone in his corner.

“I had my suspicions for a while. I wanted to be sure before I said anything..” You muttered out as you reached across the table to take his hand in yours comfortingly, “I was waiting— hoping someone else said something, I know I’m not your first choice of a person to help you through this — but I am here” You said softly.

You weren’t not close to Spencer. You were, close in age, had similar interests and you two got along well. The childish crush you had on him remained buried in between your ribcage — that was the thing about being an addict, it made you a good actor. You could act your way through any feeling.

He almost coughed at your words, his hand tightening around yours as you gave him a supportive squeeze. “Im- Thank you. I-“ His words seemed heavy on his tongue as his head shook. “I’m glad it’s you.” He said honestly.

You offered him a soft smile. You could almost see a question weighing on his mind, “What is it spence? What do you want to ask?” You prompted him, knowing his mind was properly almost complete fog at this point, overtaken by cravings.

“What- What were you addicted to? When?” He asked, eyebrows pushed upwards as if he was trying to figure out the timeline of your addiction, it caused an uncomfortable bubble in your chest.

“I was an oxy’s girl” You said, you knew it wasn’t funny but it seemed as joking was the only way to get through talking about this no matter the unsettling feeling it left in your stomach.

You exhaled heavily, “I started taking them in college after a surgery.. and well- I got addicted, obviously.” You ran your free hand through your hair as the memory dwindled in the back of your mind. Spencer’s hand squeezed your hand softly, making a half hearted tight lipped smile line your lips.

“I was clean when I first started here.” You said, fingers fidgeting. He listened with as much focus as he could with your words — you didn’t take offence to his half out of it mind. You couldn’t. “I relapsed after I got shot and they put me on them — no one knew about my addiction and I was too embarrassed to admit it to the doctors in front of the team, I relapsed once I got out of hospital.” You stated honestly.

You remembered it clear as day, after four years sober, the day you relapsed still stayed engraved into the walls of your mind freshly. You had been shot in the shoulder on a case, you were rushed to hospital and put on oxycodone and other pain medications immediately while unconscious. When you woke up and asked what they had given you, the team was standing around your bed so all you could do was nod, the relapse happened after that.

Spencer’s hand tightened on yours as his face pulled with guilt when he realised he didn’t notice. He opened his mouth to apologise but you cut him off, already knowing what he was going to say. “It’s okay.” You said, tightening your grasp on his hand mirroring his grasp on yours. “I mastered my lies by then, after years and years of lying to everyone around me.. I knew what worked and what did it.. I did it to myself” You spoke honestly.

He chewed on his lip as his gaze adverted to the table. You held his hand tightly as you felt it twitch slightly. You knew he wanted to scratch his elbow and you knew why. Your face softened all over again.

“It’s not worth it Spence. Trust me.” You said, voice heavy with honesty and you meant it more than words could explain. “You get mean, really mean, you lose yourself more and more everyday. Its not worth losing everyone around you, its not worth losing yourself” You gaze stayed on his face even when his eyes avoided yours.

You heard the shaky breath leave his lips, and then his hand left yours as his pinched his eyelids, trying to stop the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes as he squeezed them shut. It made your stomach ache.

“It- Its so hard” He said quietly. You didn’t think you had ever experienced heartbreak like hearing his voice break. Any sort of pain you felt in your life didn’t quite compare to seeing him fall apart from your words.

“I know- I know” You instantly stood up from your seat as you walked around the table towards him, he stood up as well and before you could do anything his hands were around your waist, pressing his body against yours and his head into the crevice of your neck. You arms wrapped around him without a second thought.

You could feel his tears against the skin of your neck, they were hot and thick. Your hand ran across his back gently. You always thought you’d know exactly what to do if this moment ever came to be — but you didn’t.

Words died in the back of your throat as all you could do was hold the boy in your arms as he let out the quietest soft sobs that made a gut wrenching feeling settle in your bones as goosebumps ran over your skin.

“I- I want to stop — I want to- How did you stop?” He said, wiping his face as he stood up straight, arms pulled back by his side. Your heart ached and your skin burned.

You shook your head, “Do you remember when I had to take emergency leave for family emergency?” You asked, eyes looking up into his that gleamed wet and dreary. It pulled on your heart strings and uncomfortable amount,

He nodded briefly, after he took a long moment to try to recall. You nodded back, a sigh leaving your lips. “I- Um.. I overdosed.” You stated, trying to speak stronger than your voice allowed you to. “I was in hospital for two weeks, connected to machines and wires — forced to speak to someone everyday until they deemed me healthy. I didn’t tell anyone- no one knows” You continued to shake your head.

“Do not let it get to that point Spencer — Shaking on the floor and literally frothing at the mouth, feeling so cold but not even functioning enough to know what being cold is, is not want you want. I know it feels good now — but you are going to kill yourself whether you want to or not if you keep taking it.” You spoke clearly, wanting your point to be perfectly clear. It was not worth it.

He held guilt behind fogged eyes, guilt that he didn’t notice, guilt that he almost lost you — literally and he had no idea. That you were alone during the lowest point of your life and he had no idea. He allowed your words to cloud his mind for a moment as they worked to overpower the cravings that were working to controlling his system.

“i- I don’t- Im sorry.” He stuttered over his words as he failed to think of anything better to say. Your face fell briefly as you wrapped your arms around him again.

“Im here? Okay. We will do this together day by day. I am here and I’m always going to be here Spence.” You comforted non the less.

He needed it and you needed him

01. HEAT — joel miller.

flat broke with a busted engine, our girl finds herself in the middle of the sweltering austin street outside of miller’s garage. generosity might need a bit of a push to get moving, and joel miller’s not one to offer help without something in return. lucky for her, nothing gets her going quite like driving too damn fast.

18+!!! minors do not interact

no outbreak au joel miller x f!oc // first person pov, no names, can be read as self-insert

f!oc is mentioned as having curly hair and the last name “denver”, no other descriptors used

tags: no outbreak au, full-time mechanic and part-time criminal joel miller, slight violence, reckless and dangerous driving, age gap (joel is early 40s, f!oc is implied to be mid 20s), mention and use of guns, mention of family troubles, mention of drug use, mention of drinking, no smut in part one sorry folks, slow burn that i promise will be worth multiple parts, flirty tommy miller, cranky joel miller turned “yes ma’am” boyfriend

word count: 5.3k

based on: heist inspired by the final heist in baby driver, the rest inspired by my family being a bunch of street racing mechanics who know nothing in the way of self-preservation!!

————————————————————————————

It is a sweltering 101 degrees out here in Austin today, folks, and it’s only noon. If you’re not inside, you oughta be, and if you are, you’d better stay there. Gotta be smarter than the heat.

I didn’t think my car would make it to the mechanic shop. I could see it from the red light I sat at, that big rusty sign reading Miller’s Garage. I rested my elbow on the open window frame and wiped the sweat from my brow, praying for a cool breeze and for these mechanics to find me pretty enough to get a good deal.

The light sat red for a thirty seconds, a minute, minute and a half, as I listened to the sputtering engine just barely cling to life. The radio host droned on about the heat wave, and I released my foot from the pedal just slightly, rolling past that thick white line and up to the intersection. Empty. No cars coming from any direction, no cars behind me, just me and the heat radiating from the black top.

Good a time as any to run a red light.

I pressed the gas and my car lurched forward, making it directly to the center of that intersection before a loud crack came from the engine, my car jolting to an aggressive halt and slamming me into my seat. I swore, slamming the palm of my hand against the dashboard and jumping out of the driver’s seat.

By the time I was out of the car with the door slammed shut behind me, thin plumes of smoke had started to wisp from the edges of the hood. If my car hadn’t been completely fucked already, it was now. I turned, thankful to at least not see any other cars around, and kicked the front tire.

Wincing against the sun, I looked to see if anyone had by some miracle come running from the mechanic shop that was now just a few hundred feet away. Not a soul in sight. I pushed my hair out of my face and assessed my options.

Keys outta the ignition, I remembered, my dad’s voice nagging in the back of my mind, ‘less you wanna deal with an engine exploding, too.

I leaned through the open window, the scorching black paint of the exterior burning into the skin of my thighs exposed by these damned Daisy Duke shorts as I reached for the keys, tugging them out of the ignition before fumbling around for the latch to pop the hood.

“Seems we got ourselves a bit of an engine problem here,” a gruff voice suddenly said from behind me.

Startled, I tried too fast to get my upper half out of the car, hitting my head off of the car roof. A hand rubbing the top of my mop of curls, I turned to face the source of the voice.

Goddamn.

All tan skin and scruff and dark hair, not to mention him being every bit of six foot tall, the mysterious stranger was so easy on the eyes I wondered how hard I’d hit my head. He was definitely older than me, that sort of off-limits hot that friends’ dads tend to be. He wiped his hands with a black bandana, and I tried not to swoon when there was no wedding ring to account for. Jeans covered in oiled fingerprints, heavy black boots, and a dirty blue work shirt with sleeves rolled up tight around his thick arms, he was precisely the kind of guy I needed right now.

“Yeah,” I spit out, hoping he hadn’t noticed my ogling, “Been giving me trouble for a while now, but she died on me before I could pull into the shop.”

I nodded my head towards the sign ahead of us and he huffed approvingly, tapping two fingers on the still steaming hood of the car.

“Thought I heard something out here. S’my garage, you’re lucky I was bringing a car out to the lot, else you might’ve been rolling her down there by yourself,” he replied, his accent thick and smooth.

“Very lucky,” I replied, hoping his generosity would stick around to when it was time to pay.

“Hop in and put it in neutral, I’ll push the thing while you steer it into the lot,” he ordered, “You a half decent driver? I’ve got a lotta nice vehicles in that lot, don’t need ‘em getting dinged up.”

“Better than half-decent,” I said, the urge to prove him wrong swelling suddenly in my chest.

“Show me, then,” he said simply, brushing past me as I hopped into the driver’s seat and put the car into neutral.

“Ready when you are,” I shouted out the window, watching him in the rearview mirror.

He leaned over the trunk, his jaw set and eyes dark as the muscles in his arms flexed, straining to get the car rolling. His hands were massive as they gripped the blazing hot metal, pushing me and the car towards the garage.

“Right in here,” he shouted, his voice gravelly with the effort, and if I had been paying attention, I wouldn’t have hit that damn curb.

Unfortunately I hadn’t been paying attention at all.

“Thought you said you were better than half-decent,” he grunted, and I felt my whole body go pink.

“Sorry,” I squeaked, adjusting the wheel so he could push the car the rest of the way into the shop, carefully avoiding the shiny, luxury vehicles in the lot. For an old, seemingly run-down mechanic shop, he had exceptional clientele. I pictured the fancy, impossibly clean mechanics shop my dad had taken me into once upon a time, where cars less expensive than the ones here were serviced by men in clean, white jumpsuits. And to think I’d chosen this shop because it seemed cheap when I’d driven past months earlier.

Parking my car in the empty bay of the garage, he patted a hand against the trunk, a hollow thud drawing my attention.

“Leave the keys in the ignition, I’m gonna go grab Tommy. There’s some chairs around, go on and have a seat and I’ll be right back for ya, ma’am,” he said with a nod, heading around the front of the building.

I realized I hadn’t even asked for his name.

I sighed and took my moment alone to pull myself together. It’d worked before, the whole damsel in despair act. I was off to a pretty good start. Brushing the remnants of a near-empty bottle of lipgloss onto my lips and adjusting the loose white tanktop that was now sticking to my body from the heat, I figured I had a fifty-fifty shot of flirting my way to some free repairs. They must’ve made enough from those fancy cars that sat in the lot, I figured they could spare a few hours to help out a pretty girl.

Getting out of the car, I figured I’d better really commit to this. I leaned against the back end of the car, copying a pose I’d no doubt seen on the cover of some douchey mechanic’s magazine. After a minute, two pairs of footsteps headed my way, and I adjusted myself best I could. I ran a hand through my hair as a new face rounded the corner, who I assumed was this Tommy the handsome stranger had spoken of.

He stopped in his tracks for a moment as the stranger came up behind him, shoving him forward with a small push.

“Well, Joel here tells me we’ve got some engine problems goin’ on, is that right?” Tommy asked.

“Joel,” I repeated, the sound sweet on my tongue, “Forgot to ask his name in all that chaos, forgive me for being so impolite. And yes, seems to be the case.”

“My brother’s an ass, he should be apologizing for not introducin’ himself. Mind if we take a look under that hood? Get an idea of what we’re workin’ with,” he continued, eyeing me carefully.

“Not at all. Keys in the ignition,” I replied with a smile, leaning back on my elbows and deciding to test the waters, “You wanna see the registration, insurance, any of that?”

“We’re gonna get this fixed right up for you, ma’am, don’t worry about fussin’ with all that,” he said with a slick grin. He was more charming than his brother, and nearly as fine.

Joel had already gotten the hood open and was checking the engine, digging through wires and tubes and not flinching as he touched the smoking components. I took a few lazy steps, watching the two of them talk quietly about parts I half-recognized the names of.

It had been a while since I’d been in a garage, and the smell of metal and oil had my mind running a mile a minute with memories from before I’d moved away from home, of being a child watching her daddy work under a truck, of being a reckless teenager behind the wheel of one of his buddy’s drag racing cars. I felt the same pang of regret I did every time I had to set foot in one of these shops and let some stranger fix the problem for me, that I couldn’t do it myself.

“Blew out the head gasket,” Joel said, straightening himself and closing the hood of the car, the veins in his forearm popped at the motion, “Gonna be a while ‘til we can fix that.”

“Might need to see that insurance card,” Tommy admitted sheepishly.

I swore under my breath, kicking myself for waiting until the car had completely died to get it looked at. I grabbed my insurance information from the glove compartment and handed it over to Tommy, who scanned it quickly before looking back up at me.

“Your last name is Denver?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“It is,” I replied, a bit worried about the implication it carried.

“Any relation to a Howard?” he pressed.

I’d moved from one side of Texas to the other with the hopes my dad’s reputation wouldn’t follow me, but here I stood. Joel laughed, a loud bark of a laugh that make my stomach turn, and Tommy shook his head in disbelief.

“Makes sense why you said you could drive,” Joel said, “Most infamous fuckin’ racer in Texas is your old man. Why the hell are we lookin’ at your car instead of him?”

“Your garage is a hell of a lot closer than his,” I said, which wasn’t a lie, but wasn’t the answer I knew he was poking for.

“But it’s gonna be a hell of a lot more expensive for us to do the job, he’s probably got fifty cars you could take your pick of and just junk this one,” Tommy said, his voice curious.

“Not an option,” I replied, the I’m fucked feeling starting to settle in at him mentioning expensive, “How expensive are we talking? I don’t think I can spare more than a couple hundred bucks.”

“Three grand, easy,” Joel said with a shrug, “More if it damaged anything else when it blew. Engine’s been overheating for God knows how long, bound to be somethin’ else wrong with it by now.”

I groaned and turned on my heel, pulling my hair up into a pile on top of my head as I walked outside of the garage into the blazing sun and squatted down, my boots digging into the skin of my calves. Three grand was more money than I could imagine right now, even if I worked doubles at the bar every day for the next month. And I wasn’t working doubles if I couldn’t drive to work. Fucked was not a good enough term to describe the situation I’d gotten in.

“Just how good of a driver are ya?” Tommy called from inside the garage after a long silence, his boots heavily thudding against the concrete floor as he took a few steps towards me.

“Depends on the car,” I replied, “Doesn’t matter if mine’s not running.”

“Tell you what,” Tommy started, “I know your old man, might be willing to do a favor for you if you can do a favor for me.”

“Tommy,” Joel warned. I stood up and turned to face him, my face stern as I waited for whatever he was about to ask me to do. My mind circled through the list of favors older men had asked of me, none of them good, all of them being worthy of smacking him as hard as I could manage.

“Ever drive a 1970 Challenger?” Tommy asked.

“Learned how to drive in that car,” I replied.

“Then you’ve got yourself a deal.”

————————————————————————————

Sitting in the driver’s seat of an impeccable 1970 Dodge Challenger felt better than drugs.

Well, almost.

Painted a shiny, deep black with a lush black leather interior, the thing was fitted with so many modifications it couldn’t have been legal. It was spotless inside, as if it’d come straight from the factory and I was the first person to ever sit in the driver’s seat, smelling only of warm leather and the cologne Joel wore beside me. I could have drooled.

It’d been years since I’d driven one, but it was second nature to me after so many years of taking cars exactly like this on test drives through abandoned neighborhoods and around tracks. I’d been an adrenaline junkie back then, a miniature version of my dad who spent every waking hour around cars. I fiddled with the radio, the windshield wipers, the shift stick, tapping into a part of my brain I’d forgotten was there. My lips pursed around a cherry lollipop I’d found in the bottom of my bag as I mindlessly reacquainted myself with this beauty of a vehicle.

“Stop messin’ with my radio,” Joel muttered from the passenger seat, reaching over to switch it off, “And get that fuckin’ lollipop outta your mouth. Don’t need you makin’ my seats sticky.”

He reached over and pulled it from between my lips, a small pop filling the air before he tossed it out into the garage. I turned, hoping he didn’t notice my cheeks turn a deep shade of crimson.

“Where am I going?” I asked, clearing my throat as I yelled out through the open window while Tommy rummaged through an old toolbox. I hadn’t even noticed the second set of garage doors at the back of the main garage, which had opened to reveal this beauty of a car, along with a random assortment of parts that I recognized as modification pieces, as well as two metal tabletops full of machines and tools I didn’t recognize.

“Just need you to give Joel a ride to the post office across town,” Tommy said.

“You got a suspended license or something?” I asked Joel, only half-joking.

“Something like that,” he replied, sinking deeper into his seat and pressing his hands into his strong thighs, which strained against his jeans. I forced my eyes to face forward, taking a deep breath and trying to get the image out of my head.

“Joel’s gotta run a job your old man used to do, s’all,” Tommy said. His explanation didn’t do anything in the way of clearing up what was actually going on. I wasn’t going to argue, but if I was going to be getting myself into trouble, a little warning might’ve been nice - and my dad’s jobs had been nothing but trouble my whole life.

“How do you know him?” I asked.

“Howard? Used to race with our dad out in Arlington before we moved down here,” Tommy answered, nodding towards Joel, “Long time ago. Haven’t seen him in probably, dunno, fifteen years. Can’t have been more than twenty back then.”

I hummed, putting together the pieces. Joel drummed his fingers against his knees as Tommy shoved some items into a duffel bag, tossing it into the window and onto Joel’s lap. Leaning into the passenger side window, he held out a dangling, single silver key to the car, though he snatched it back when I went to grab it.

“Listen, kid, we gotta establish some things here,” Tommy said sternly, a tone I hadn’t yet heard from him, “I knew your dad real well. Know where to find him if there’s any sort of trouble here. Seein’ as you’re a far way from home, I can imagine that’s not an ideal outcome here for either of us. So you’re gonna drive Joel where he needs to go, then straight back here, and when you’re done, you’re gonna forget the whole thing ever happened. We’ll get you a brand new engine, hell, I’ll throw in some other repairs for that busted thing. But you’ve gotta fulfill your end of the deal here.”

“Got it. Chauffeur Joel around, come back, and shut the hell up. Not a problem,” I said with a shrug. By the looks of them, I couldn’t imagine it was anything worse than I’d gotten into before - a drug deal, maybe, or buying illegal parts.

“Gonna be a problem if you can’t drive like your old man,” Joel muttered, pulling out the black bandana that had been stuffed into his pocket and tying it loosely around his neck.

I put the key in the ignition and started the engine, the familiar purr vibrating the seat and sending a shiver down my spine. I tried to conceal my smile, to brush away the feeling that I should be driving something like this instead of my busted tin can of a car.

“Just bring the car back in one piece and I’ll be happy,” Tommy said, running a hand through his floppy, graying hair.

I flung the car into reverse and swung into the parking lot, dodging around one of those shiny silver cars they had parked out front. Joel shot me a glare as I put the car in drive, smiling like a fool knowing I still had it in me.

“Told ya I was a good driver,” I happily hummed, looking both ways before flying down the street.

————————————————————————————

The problem wasn’t going to be getting Joel and the car back in one piece, it was going to be avoiding a speeding ticket.

I’d gotten onto the highway easily, the early evening traffic just beginning to show itself as I weaved between minivans and school busses, Joel’s hand firmly gripping the overhead handle as I turned up the radio. I was ecstatic, some biological switch flipped in me that reminded me just how badly I missed racing, forgetting everything I had ran from.

“You mind slowin’ down there?” Joel grunted.

“Not even goin’ that fast,” I complained, glancing at the speedometer as it creeped above ninety.

“Goin’ fast enough to kill us both,” he barked.

I ignored him, mentally counting down the exits as we passed them, impatiently speeding as I watched for that big, sun-faded DOWNTOWN sign. I almost wanted to drag the drive out, to slow down and spend longer in a car that had functioning air conditioning and an engine that worked perfectly, but my curiosity was getting the better of me.

“Are you gonna tell me what we’re going to a post office for, anyways?” I pried.

“Not happenin’,” he replied.

“No fun,” I complained.

“Might be a little more fun once we’re back at the garage alive,” he muttered.

“Oh yeah? What’s Joel Miller like to do for fun?” I asked, checking my mirrors before swerving across three lanes to make the exit.

“I’m usually the one drivin’ like this,” he admitted.

“You’ve got it in you, too,” I said.

“Got what in me?” he asked.

“My dad always called it heat. Get your adrenaline goin’ one time, and you’ll keep goin’ back for more. Like a car engine, you’ll keep at it until you burn up, or until you crash. Always gonna be one or the other.”

I could feel his eyes on me and I became very aware of the way the black strap of my bra was too loose, fallen over my shoulder, the way my hair had gone wild with the windows down, the adrenaline that had flushed my skin. The air was heavy between us as I waited for him to speak, but the words never came.

It didn’t take long to reach the post office from the highway, and I rolled up slowly, around back as Joel instructed. It was past five o’clock, and the neon open sign out front had been switched off. Around back, there was only one other car and an empty mail truck, parked for the night after the driver’s day had ended.

“Leave the car on,” Joel instructed, popping open the door and tossing the duffel bag over his shoulder, “The second you see me comin’ out that back door, you put this thing in drive and be ready to fuckin’ move.”

“We running from somebody?” I asked, choking out a small laugh. This had started to seem less like a small-time drug deal I’d gotten myself into.

“Just be ready,” he replied simply, his dark eyes lingering on mine for a moment before he got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. “If I’m in there longer than two minutes, you get the hell out of here.”

I watched intently as Joel looked around carefully as he approached the docking area at the back of the building and disappeared through a thick metal door clearly intended for employees. Turning up the radio just slightly, I sunk into my seat and watched the main road, counting the seconds as the same radio host from earlier reported the score from that night’s Rangers game.

Fifteen seconds.

Thirty seconds.

Forty-five.

My heart thrummed in my chest, wondering what the hell he could possibly be doing inside of a post office.

One minute.

One minute fifteen seconds.

One minute thirty.

An alarm began to blare from the building.

It was somewhat muffled from the brick exterior, but it was loud enough to make me jump. Muttering curses under my breath, I switched the car out of park and into drive, one foot slammed into the brake and the other hovering over the gas.

That metal door slammed open so hard it cracked against the brick outside of the building and dented the door, a bright red light illuminating Joel’s figure as he booked it towards the car. The engine hummed under me as my heartbeat thundered in my chest, my palms slick as he was trailed by two other figures in uniforms, just a few yards behind. I realized as he got closer that Joel had at some point pulled up that black bandana to cover the lower half of his face.

I reached over and unlatched the door, swinging it wide open just in the nick of time for him to jump in.

“Fucking drive!” he shouted, throwing the now over-stuffed duffel bag into the backseat as I slammed the gas pedal into the floor, the tires squealing as the car accelerated too quickly, whipping from left to right before I could finally get control of the thing.

The uniformed men chased after the car as I raced through the empty parking lot towards a back alley that would lead me to the highway again, and a loud pop followed by the sound of cracking glass made me turn my head. Joel’s hand pushed my head down until I faced the street again, though not soon enough for me to not have noticed the bullet lodged in the cracked back windshield.

“What the fuck do you steal from a post office that makes us get shot at?!” I screeched, whipping the car into the alley and watching the speedometer tick past 60 miles per hour in a 15 mile zone.

“Girl called the damn cops the second I opened that door,” he muttered, ducking low as he peered behind us to see if we were being tailed yet.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Joel!” I replied, my voice sounding hysteric.

Before the words left my mouth, the sound of sirens could be heard in every direction.

Without looking, I booked it across the four-lane main street, darting for the highway as cars around me slammed on their brakes and horns, the sound deafening over the roaring engine. Up the on-ramp, I swerved into traffic, looking desperately for other black cars that we could attempt to blend in with. The rearview mirror gleamed red and blue as cops half a mile back began to trail after us and I pushed the car to go faster, past 90 and well on the way to 100 miles an hour.

“We’ve gotta get off this highway and lose ‘em,” Joel said sternly.

“Tommy said to go straight back to-,” I started.

“I know what he fuckin’ said. Three exits down leads out through a tunnel and wraps around the back of the city. Get out fast enough and we might be able to lose ‘em,” Joel ordered.

“That’s gonna take us out towards an industrial plant, nothing to hide us out there,” I argued.

“Just fuckin’ do it. There’s a Mustang and a Charger up ahead, both black, both fast, get near them and take the exit, pray they trail one of ‘em instead of us,” Joel snapped.

I darted between cars until I reached the two that were nearly identical to the car we drove, one of them switching lanes just in front of a tractor trailer. If we were lucky, the cops wouldn’t have been able to notice that we’d swapped places, and the exit was just a few hundred feet away. Painfully, against all better judgment, I slowed down, letting the cops get closer to avoid looking like the car that was absolutely fucking booking it. I could’ve breathed a sigh of relief when the Mustang sped up to pass us as we made the exit, and the sirens and flashing lights veered off to the left to follow the highway as we went right down the ramp.

The sun had sunk below the horizon at this point, the sky a hazy orange as I pulled off of the road into an empty industrial parking lot, shoving the car into park and jumping out.

“What the hell are you doin’?” Joel asked, getting out of the car behind me.

“Need a second,” I said, taking a few steps and running my fingers through my hair, resting my hands on my head as I turned to face him.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna be sick or somethin’,” he said, leaning against the open frame of the passenger door.

I shook my head, surprised at how I felt. I should have felt nauseous, scared absolutely shitless, but I didn’t. My whole body was vibrating, like I could have ran a marathon, like I’d just taken the best cocaine known to man. A knot in my stomach felt so hot it could’ve been glowing, and I started to laugh.

“You gonna tell me what’s goin’ on it that head of yours?” Joel asked, tilting his head as he watched me.

“You gonna tell me what’s in that duffel bag?” I asked.

He nodded towards the car and I followed him as he opened the back door, ripping open the zipper and showing me hundreds of blank sheets of some kind of forms, looking almost like blank checks.

“Blank checks?” I asked, my face twisting into a disappointed frown.

“Blank money orders,” Joel corrected.

“We got shot at over some blank money orders? What the fuck did you drag me into, Joel?” I asked, my hands burning as I held myself back from slapping him.

“Got a buddy, think he’s a friend of your old man’s, actually,” Joel explained, “Got this machine. Turns blank money orders into cash. Makes ‘em valid somehow, real techy sort of guy.”

“How much?” I asked, tugging on the lip of the bag to try to guess how many were inside.

“Thousand bucks a piece.”

There must’ve been five hundred blank money orders in the bag, and that was on the low end of the estimate. My eyes widened, and he quickly zipped the bag back up. I looked up at him, noticing how close he stood to me, how much taller he was than me, the way his body entirely shielded mine. He looked down at me, one hand leaning against the roof of the car, his muscled arm just inches from my face.

“Tip of the iceberg, darlin’,” he said, his voice low and smooth.

“And y’all need a driver,” I replied.

“That we do.”

The cool breeze I’d been wishing for earlier finally came with the last streaks of golden sunlight, wisping a few loose strands of hair over my face. Before I could reach up myself, Joel’s hand, strong and calloused and stained from work, gently brushed them out of my eyes. His skin grazed mine and I couldn’t say if it was the adrenaline or the closeness that did it, but I leaned in just a millimeter closer to him, eyes wide as a doe and desperate for the smell of his cologne.

“Oughta get back to the garage ‘fore Tommy thinks we got caught,” he breathed.

“Guess so,” I replied, not moving a muscle.

He stepped away, closing the back door between us, eyes lingering for a moment before he rounded the car and got back into his seat. Breathless and stirring with jittery, pent-up adrenaline, I got back into the driver’s seat and flipped the key in the ignition, the engine thrumming to life again.

————————————————————————————

It was dark by the time we rolled into the garage again, Tommy pacing by the front door of the main office with a cigarette illuminating his face. He followed us as we parked, and Joel hopped out before the car was at a full stop, reaching up and pulling down the main garage door. Tommy flipped on a light as I reached into the backseat, tugging the heavy duffel onto my lap and over my shoulder before getting out of the car.

The pair of brothers followed behind me as I dropped the bag onto the metal table, unzipping it in the dim fluorescent lighting and breathing in the smell of that off-the-printer paper. Tommy’s jaw was gaping as I slowly started to count the stacks, each wrapped in a rubber band, each containing fifty money orders. It took a while, with Joel neatly piling them up on the table as I counted.

He’d gotten over a thousand.

“Fuck,” I breathed, my voice shaking with excitement as I handed over the last stack, our final count being 1,100 money orders.

“Grab a fuckin’ calculator,” Tommy barked, and Joel started towards the office before I grabbed him by the back of his shirt.

“One-point-one-million,” I answered. Joel let out a low whistle and Tommy choked back a laugh.

“Jesus,” Tommy said, the cigarette still dangling from his lips, ashes falling onto his shirt as he spoke.

“Tip of the iceberg,” Joel muttered.

“You still gonna fix my car?” I asked, still staring down at the piles of paper below me.

“More than that,” Tommy replied, “You go out there and pick whatever car you want outta that lot. And then some.”

I took a few deep breaths, trying to steady myself when the ground below me felt like it was spinning. My palms pressed flat against the cold metal and I ran through the thousand different options I had before me now.

All I could think of was driving that damn car with Joel in the passenger seat.

“The red one,” I finally said, “1970 Chevy Chevelle. Candy apple red.”

“You keep gettin’ us away from cops like that, and you’ve got a deal,” Tommy replied.

I nodded once, real slow, before turning to look at Joel. His eyes were already on me as he grabbed a set of keys from the rack on the wall, nodding towards the garage door. Behind me, I heard Tommy reach over to grab the money orders and load them back into the bag.

“You go alone to meet with Buddy, Tommy,” Joel said, eyes not leaving me, “I’m takin’ miss candy-apple-red Chevy out to celebrate.”

————————————————————————————

a/n: thank you for reading!!

part two coming within a few days.

please reblog, comment, follow, etc etc etc if you enjoyed, it would truly mean the world to me ❤️‍🔥

Gay cowboys

Gay cannibals

Gay (but not really gays since they are genderless) biblical entities

Gay attorneys

Gay homophobes

Hoping I'm not the only one loving all these different pieces of media and fandoms !!

It's so funny to me to see how the dynamics are different but at the same time they are all just some guys that can't speak and say "look I love you let's become a couple and stop all this complicated long situationship shit"

a story where dean opens up about his childhood to cas would be amazing 💙💙

destiel, 1.5k, established relationship, hurt-comfort, angst, anxiety attack, mentions of abuse and childhood trauma not in complete detail

Cas didn’t need to sleep.

Before he and Dean started dating, Cas would spend his nights out in the library, on his own, and Dean always hated it. He hated knowing that Cas would be out there on his own, waiting for somebody to wake up to keep him company. It used to keep Dean up some nights, when he was hopelessly in love with the angel but too scared to do anything about it, and all he could picture was Cas sat on his own in the dark, waiting.

So when they did get together, Dean urged Cas to spend his nights with him. And at first, it had been a way to keep him company even when Dean was asleep. He’d fall asleep with Cas beside him, and wake up with him in the same position, tangled up in Dean’s limbs that had soothed him through the lonely night. Dean would kiss him Goodnight and kiss him good morning, and they’d get up and leave the bedroom together.

But sometimes, Cas being in bed with Dean was more for Dean’s benefit than the angel’s.

Dean could feel the warmth of him pressed up against his back through the thin material of his sleep shirt. Cas had his body draped along the length of Dean’s back, an arm hooked over his waist, a leg between his — practically every part of Cas was touching him, and it kept him grounded. He needed the contact to keep himself sane.

“Another one,” Castiel’s breath fanned over the back of his neck as his voice came out in a low rumble. “Breathe, Dean.”

It had happened more times than he’d like to admit, that Cas helped him breathe. Dean didn’t get panic attacks, he didn’t have anxiety or depression, he was fine. But… there had been occasions where he thought too hard and it felt like he’d been winded, or his vision blurred and his chest ached. And before Cas, he’d forced himself through it. He clenched his jaw and sat stiffened until it passed, or at least until it got marginally better, and he carried on with whatever he was doing. If Sam asked, he got told the same thing every time, that he was fine.

But Dean couldn’t lie to Cas. The first time it had happened in front of the angel he’d tried to shrug him off, but Cas had seen right through him, and just forced him to sit down and eased him through it.

Cas has been easing him through it for almost six hours by that point.

The case that he and Cas had worked had left Dean with a nauseous swirl in his gut instead of the usual relief. He’d grit his teeth through the drive home and only hadn’t crashed because of his partner’s hand on his leg. He got food and didn’t choke because of the warmth of the angel sat by his side. When they got back to the bunker the only reason Dean hadn’t sat and drank an entire bottle of whiskey was because Cas had led him to their bedroom before he had the chance to pour a third glass.

When he’d been doing things, it was easier to try and ignore the feeling. But when he just laid there with nothing to do but stare at the wall, he thought. And when he thought about the case too much, it physically took his breath away.

“That’s better,” Cas had one hand against Dean’s chest and rubbed his sternum with the heel of his palm, and his other arm was underneath the pillow Dean laid on. “Another one.”

Dean forced the breaths until the ache in his chest subsided and his vision stopped swimming. When the wall finally stopped looking blurry, his shoulders slumped slightly, and he tipped his head back until he was flush against Cas. “Thanks.” His voice was a little rough and a little shaky.

“Are you alright, Dean?” Cas sounded so concerned that it made Dean’s heart ache. To be fair, he didn’t even know what was wrong, why the case had fucked him up so much. Dean hadn’t been able to tell him at the time without compromising the case by sending himself into a spiral.

“Peachy,” Dean continued to stare at the wall. “M’fine, Cas.”

Though he was breathing fine, the palm that rubbed against his chest hadn’t stopped. It was nice, it kept him at least somewhat relaxed.

“Would you like to tell me what happened?” There was a pause behind him, before, “If you want to. You don’t have to.”

Dean hesitated, swallowed the bile that threatened to rise in his throat.

The case they’d worked was at the house of a mother and her young son who kept getting unexplainable bruises, and it turned out that they were being haunted by the ghost of the boy’s deceased father. They spoke to the mother and found out all about her dead husband — the ex-military, violent, angry man — and they’d spoken to the son, and it just hit a bit too close to home. It made Dean think too much about it.

He’d never told Cas much about his dad. He knew the basics, knew that there had been some issues, but Dean had never gone into too much detail. That shit was in the past, he had forced himself to forgive and forget his father’s actions. He supposed it was why when he was forced to remember it all, it threw him through the fucking loop. Because he’d forced himself to pack it all away years ago.

“Dean,” Cas prompted softly when he hadn’t replied, and rubbed the heel of his palm over his sternum again. “With me?”

Dean cleared his throat and nodded, and forced himself to focus on the angel’s touch, the warmth of his body, the breath on his neck. “Yeah, um…” he took in a shuddering breath and exhaled before he spoke again. “The case just got me thinkin’.”

There was silence behind him. Cas just pressed his palm to his chest again, as if to say go on.

“That… fuck, that kid,” Dean hated the way his voice wavered, he wanted to choke down the feeling and shove it back into the box that he’d kept locked up for years, that he hadn’t touched in god knows how long. “He didn’t deserve that.”

“No, he didn’t,” Castiel agreed solemnly. “He was just a boy.”

Dean’s throat constricted. “It wasn’t fair, it was his dad, he was supposed to… to keep him safe, not to… to take his anger out on him.”

Cas was silent for a moment, continued the ministrations against Dean’s chest. “There’s no complacency in a man that angry,” there was silence, before, “That… boy, he didn’t deserve it. Any of it.”

Dean’s eyes stung and he squeezed them shut. He knew that they weren’t talking about the boy. “He’s been dead for years.”

“So?” Castiel also knew that they weren’t talking about the boy. “He was also alive for years. Time makes no difference to the extent of the damage that was done.”

It was the gentleness of Cas’ tone that broke the barrier, and Dean felt as the first tears slipped past his eyelashes, over the curve of his nose. He took a few moments of silence, breathed through his mouth and focused on the pressure on his chest, before he spoke again.

“It scares me, sometimes. The… the anger he left me with. I don’t… I don’t want to hurt Sam, or… or you.”

Again, Castiel didn’t reply straight away. His hand lifted from Dean’s chest and pressed to his shoulder, pulled him until he laid flat on his back, looking up at the angel. His expression was so loving that Dean’s throat clenched again.

“Dean,” there was a certain sincerity to Castiel’s voice, a hard seriousness that he felt in his bones. “You are nothing like your father.”

It felt like getting winded. Dean had to remember to breathe back in as he absorbed the statement, eyes flickered around the angel’s face for any crack in the sincerity. He couldn’t find one. The tears fell a little faster.

A warm hand cupped Dean’s cheek before Cas’ head dipped down, and their mouths met with a tenderness that sucked most of the aches out of Dean’s bones. It was soft and warm and felt like safety.

“You’re not,” Cas promised again as soon as the kiss had broken, like he couldn’t bare the thought of Dean doubting him. “You are good, Dean. You are who you are in spite of him, not because of him.”

The lump in his throat just grew larger. Dean tried to swallow around it but couldn’t, so he blinked away the tears and nodded, and just leaned up to kiss Cas again.

He hoped that in every press of his lips, stroke of his tongue, in every breath that they shared, that he could convey the I love you that he wasn’t able to say in that moment.

Any Sydcarmy headcanons? Or fics?

Ooh, top three I'm obsessed with:

child with a child pretending by emilybrontay (@sennenrose) - I'm obsessed with sydney and carmy with sydneys baby!! i need followups, drabbles, info!!

give me the sign by novelsandnoodles - sydney finds out who carmy got the sign from and i love it so much!!

intimates conquering intimacy by sashafiercer (@sashafiercest) - intimacy on intimacy on intimacy and it's so beautiful and funny.

The Less I Know The Better

Sydney likes Luca's cooking and Carmy wants to kill himself.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, Arguing, Angst, Toxic Relationship, Possessive Behavior, Unprotected Sex, Jealousy, Alcohol, Panic Attacks, Codependency

Divider: firefly-graphics.tumblr.com GIF: thiscoldheart.tumblr.com

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N:

I used to pray for times like this. I'm so happy I finished the fic and I am unburdened by it. I have one more installment planned. It's not a continuation but how I imagine they got together in the first place. I'll try to get that out soon. The title is based on The Less I Know the Better by Tame Impala. Posted on AO3.

She didn't feel like she was in her body when she woke up the next morning.

Her head was floating away to some vast unknown paradox, she couldn’t rid herself of the feeling. It made her senses fall out of whack. She felt cold, even in his warm embrace. His body was always so warm. When he pulled her against him she’d sink into it, against his artfully crafted body, she felt at home.

She missed the mindlessness his touch brought. He’d look at her and hold her like she didn’t have to worry, ever, about anything. He always made her feel safe. She briefly registered an emotion she hadn’t felt since her business failed. It was gone, shaken off by the flexing of her fingers down to her toes.

The feeling left her and she could finally move.

She slipped out from under him, a stealth mission to leave the house before he woke up. He stirred when she stood up, her  blood ran ice cold. With a heart fighting its way out of her chest and tightly closed eyes - she begged god to keep him asleep. Just for a little longer, she wasn’t ready to face him. After a few moments of silence his breathing evened out and she could safely open her eyes. The breath she released was sure to be quiet.

The morning didn’t greet her with the smell of freshly cut grass or a warm radiant sky, but with a brittle bite. Her cheeks were stinging and her lashes were wet by the time she reached her father’s house.  

Emmanuel stood by his coffee maker. He watched as his sweet'n low disappeared into his coffee. His back was to her when she turned her key and welcomed herself inside. She never got rid of her key when she moved out in case something went wrong. God knows she was used to things going wrong.  

“Something tells me you want to talk.” He called behind him as he added cream to his cup. He watched as the color of his coffee lightened until it reached the desired hue.  

Sydney weakly snorted as she shrugged out of her puffer and heeled her shoes off at the door. She hung her coat on the rack and sat on the too stiff wooden seat sitting at the table. She sat in silence as the sounds of her father’s spoon clinking against a ceramic mug filled the air.

She absently noted that it was the mug she sculpted for him when she was just 9 years old.

More silence stretched between them.

She liked it though. She didn’t feel the need to perform or pretend like she wasn’t burning on the inside. He finally turned around bringing an extra cup with him, already filled with coffee prepared just how she liked it.  

“What’s on your mind sweet pea?” He took a seat, the wooden chair shifted under his weight and the floor creaked.  

Each time she tried to speak the words died on her tongue. She couldn’t form a coherent thought and the longer she struggled the more she thought about how stupid this all was.

Finally, she let herself breath.

“God, I wish mom were here.” She stared down at her reflection in her coffee. Nearly black with 2 sugars.

“So it’s one of those problems.” He spoke into his cup just before taking a healthy sip. The mug hit the table with a subtle 'clank'. “I can call auntie, but it’s close to midnight where she is.“ He was already moving to grab his phone when she stopped him.

“No, don’t bother auntie!" Her outburst made him pause. He slowly moved back to his previous position, watching his daughter with intensity. "It-“ she sighed glancing between her cup and her father’s befuddled face. He patiently awaited her confession. “It’s just about Carmy…” she bitterly chuckled as she she played with one of her braids. Twisting it around her finger before letting it fall. “Stupid really.”

“Ah,” he raised his eyebrows. “It’s one of those problems.” He hummed, contemplating his next set of words. Silently pondering how to best go about this. “Why do you say it’s stupid?”

She shot him a deadpan stare, “Come on. Boy problems, at this age?” She rested her elbows on the table and ran her hands over her face. Her fingers rested firmly against her eyes.

She pressed and pressed until the burning feeling of tears subsided. She wished she didn’t feel the need to be so strong all the time. She wished she could just breakdown and let those feelings flow instead of intellectualizing them every chance she got.

Emmanuel gently nudged her shoulder effectively bringing her back down to reality.  

“If you have a problem, you have a problem.” He waited until her glassy eyes reached his. “Talk to me, you can tell me anything.”

She sniffled, laying her hands flat against the table, sliding them back so she could feel the smooth surface. A grounding technique that always seemed to work. She slid them until they fell off the table and rested in her lap. It wasn't working this time.

“I just didn’t think I’d ever find myself back here again.” She muttered more to herself than to him. But he nodded along nonetheless. “We broke up. It was finished. Yeah, it was awkward at the restaurant but it was working…” she lifted one shoulder and let it drop before adding. "Working enough." She shook her head in disbelief. “Then- then he came to me for help and I just couldn’t say no. It’s like he knows just what to say and I’d do anything for him. Anything.”  

Emmanuel nodded slowly taking in her words. Hanging onto everything she said, saving his response for later when she was done pouring her heart out.

“Then I learn he hasn’t let go of his ex and they’re still” her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and she felt her throat burn with constriction. She sipped her coffee, letting the warmth slide down her throat and warm her belly. “They’re still friends and he brought her to family dinner and I don’t know. I think I did something stupid just because I was jealous and afraid. Now i'm debating if I even want to go to California still and you know this opportunity is all I ever really wanted. I still lo-“ she choked on her words before gulping them down.“I just don’t want to lose him.”

He inhaled deeply taking in everything she said. But he thought not to speak. - at least for now. He let her words linger and he let them penetrate his mind. His daughter was his heart, a spitting image of her mother, he just wanted to coddle her. To hold her against him and tell her everything would be okay and that he’d get rid of anything causing her distress.

As he stared at her he realized she wasn’t that little girl playing in his shoes anymore. She wasn't tripping over her feet and scraping her knees on the hot concrete. That was back when his kisses could make the pain go away in an instant. She was different. She had complex thoughts and even more complex feelings that he was afraid to admit he didn’t quite understand.

He didn’t know what to say.

He didn’t know what to do.  

“I ever told you about the time your mother and I broke up?” He watched as her eyes lit up with curiosity. “Yeah it was Summer of '83, she was missing home. Her parents were getting older and she wanted to spend as much time as she could with them.”

She watched as his eyes drifted to the ceiling and he recalled what happened all those years ago.

“I think I told her that if she left me I’d never forgive her, that I’d never speak to her again.”

“God dad.”   

“I know, I know.” He chuckled to himself. “But I just couldn’t imagine losing her or living apart. I wanted a family and I knew I didn’t want that with anybody else but her.” He shrugged. “I was being selfish. Selfish and stupid-”

“What'd she do?” She questioned before the tail end of his sentence could leave his mouth.

“She left.” He chuckled with the shake of his head. “I was dumb, a kid. I didn’t fully understand what love was. I didn’t think it could exist when there was such a great distance between us.”

Sydney thought about Carmy again. The way she’d felt sick at the thought of leaving him and The Bear. She shooed those thoughts away when her father began speaking again.   

“I lasted about three days, I think...” He recalled. “Maybe two and a half before I called her parents’ house. She didn’t want to speak to me but I wore her down and the first thing I said to her was that I missed her and that I was sorry.”   

She felt a warmth spread from her heart throughout her body. Despite herself, a smile broke over her face.  

“She of course told me to go to hell.” He laughed. His infectious laughter pulled Syd in, beckoning her to participate in his delight.

“So what?" She chuckled between her words. "You just wore her down even more?”

“Well, sorta kinda” he hummed with a grin on his face. “I got the next flight out and showed up at her parent’s doorstep with flowers and a ring. Hat in hand, I asked for her back.” He quirked his eyebrow and tilted his head to the side. “I think I gifted her parents some fresh fruit so they didn’t run me off their property.”

“Jesus, so did she take you back?” She leaned forward, cheeks aching from her smile. She loved hearing new stories about her late mother.

It was bittersweet, she knew that one day there wouldn't be anymore stories to tell.

“She did.” He supplied. “I asked her father for her hand that night and we were engaged the next morning. Flew back to the states a few days later.”

“Real smooth dad.” She chuckled. “Did she come back with you?”

“No, she stayed there for a few more months after I went back but we talked all the time. She taught me a lot, Syd.” He rested his hand over hers. “She taught me about patience and trust. She taught me to put myself first just like she did. Most importantly she taught me that love is something tangible, something real and nobody can define what it means for you, but you.” He let her sit with those words. “Now, I can’t tell you what to do in this situation. I know things are different nowadays in relationships. Kids aren’t getting married all willy nilly” he stopped short. “You’re not thinking of marrying this kid are you?”

“No dad.” She replied as she rolled her eyes. “It feels like we are though.”   

“Well, I’ll ask you this: How does he feel about all this?”   

“He-“ she stopped with a sudden realization. She hadn’t even spoken to him. She left him alone in her apartment in her bed after she confessed that she was leaving the state for an undetermined amount of time.

A fog lifted from her mind and it donned on her just how much of an asshole move that was. She hadn't even consider how he'd be taking all this.

“Dad I gotta go.”

Carmy blinked a few times adjusting to the sun's rays bleeding through the blinds. He let a yawn pass his lips as he rubbed his eyes. His arms reached out as the kinks in his shoulder popped and relaxed. He was used to mornings with Syd being spent in leisure. Quiet and intimate.

Whoever woke up first usually started breakfast. They never spent the morning after separated. Syd teased him once about being a ‘water sign’ (whatever that means) but Carmy hated the idea of waking up alone.

This was something Syd knew.

Carmy frowned when he felt that the other side of the bed was cold. He opened his eyes fully to examine the wrinkled bed sheets beside him. She'd been gone so long that the bed was now cold to touch.

“What the?” He turned his head around searching the space for her, listening for anything. “Syd?”

He stood up tugging on his pants and stumbling out of her room.

“Sydney?” He rushed through the space looking for her, a note, anything. But, she simply wasn’t home. He huffed pushing his hair back and staring at the white wall before him. No note, no notice, nothing.

Was he not worth the decency of a quick nudge, ‘Hey I'm headed out’? He just never thought she’d leave her own apartment to avoid an awkward rejection the morning after.

He felt so stupid.

He never felt stupider.

Of course, this was nothing, of course, this was a sympathy fuck or something worse. Like closure.

What else could it have been if shes that eager to get up and leave?

Carmy’s spiral of self-deprecation was cut short by the sound of keys turning in the door.

“You’re up!” She notes before turning completely around and locking the door. She used this precious time to squeeze her eyes shut and count to five. With a steadying breath, she turned around to face Carmy.

She always loved how sensitive he was when it was just the two of them. It was the look on his face that reminded her of their little agreement.

Leaving each other after having sex wasn’t something they did. Sex felt sacred to them, the time carved out was far too precious to ignore. After breaking up, the pact to remain in each other's embrace after still stood apparently.

“Yeah, I’m up!” He met her with a warm embrace, a warm smile on his face.

She was surprised at his reaction but decided that she liked this more than the expected awkwardness.

“Sorry, you had to wake up alone.” She exhaled sincerely into his shoulder.

He closed his eyes enjoying their closeness before pulling away.

“Where were you?” He grabbed the bags out of her hand and pecked her cheek before bringing them to the kitchen. “What's all this? You went grocery shopping?”

“Yeah on my way back I stopped by the store. I’m out of eggs and bacon and milk and you know everything.” She shrugged. “Wanted to make us breakfast.”

Something to soften the blow. Butter him up.

“That tends to happen when you spend all of your time at the restaurant.” He replied, playful sarcasm in his voice. He moved to begin cooking their breakfast. “Don’t feel bad, my place doesn’t look much better anyways.”

She wanted to help him but holding onto this secret, this brewing confession, left her mute and stagnant. After a few moments of watching him she cleared her throat and leaned against the counter.

“I bet.” She remembers all the mornings and nights when they had to make something out of thin air or order delivery if they were too tired from working.

She began putting the groceries Carmy didn’t need away.

"Where were you on your way back from?"

“Oh yeah I um I also went by my dads...”

Carmy sliced a square of butter and let it sizzle in the skillet. Something peculiar was in her tone, he knew that much.

“Yeah? How is he?” He glanced over at her finding that her face matched her tone. Peculiar.

“Still buying canned cabbage.”

He barked a laugh before sparing her a glance. “Gotta get him to see the light, Chef!”

“I’ve been trying, Chef.” They both laughed, naturally letting it tapper out. A swollen silence filled the air. “I talked to him about us”

That seemed to make Carmy’s ears perk up. “What about us?” He tried to keep his tone casual, but she knew him well. Each inflection in his voice stuck out like a sore thumb. No matter how normal he tried to sound.  

“I asked for advice.” She slowly delivered “Carmy. I don’t know if what we did was smart.”

He momentarily stopped scrambling the sizzling eggs, it was only for a second but the hitch in movement was noticeable.

“I’m not saying I regret it or anything,” She supplied quickly. “But I already have my plane ticket. I’m leave soon and we’re-“

“We’re not gonna work long distance.” He finished her sentence, realization seemingly hitting him in that moment. “You're right we won’t.” He admitted dejectedly.

Frankly, she was surprised by his answer and how understanding he sounded. She wished that she could fully understand the breadth of her decision herself.

She promised herself from a young age that she’d never let anything hold her back from her dreams - not money, not circumstances, not relationships - one thing seemed to slip through the cracks.

She misses when she never looked twice in a guys (or a girls, for that matter) general direction.

She kept her head down for so long working, working, working now her dreams were being fulfilled right before her eyes and she found herself hesitating. All because of some blue eyed man with anger issues.

She didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want to leave The Bear.

But she knew she had to. She’d resent him. She’d resent herself. If her mother’s death taught her anything, its to always live your life for yourself. Time here on earth was so short, a drop in the boundless ocean. She had to spend her time doing what she loved even if it called for great sacrifice.

“I can’t pass this up.” Her voice cracked. A very surreal feeling thickened the air as they accepted defeat.

This felt eerily final. 

“I wouldn’t want you to," He let a beat pass before adding on an obligatory, “Chef.” He sighs, clicking the front burner up a few notches. “Just don’t go over there and decide you like working in their kitchen more than mine."

"Yours?" She raised an eyebrow, her teeth winked at him as she smiled.

"Ours." They both smiled at his words and settled into more tension-filled silence.

“What's gonna happen to us?”

Carmy rattled the words around in his head as he plated the eggs and moved on to frying bacon. He focused on the popping sound of the grease and the smell of crisping pork. His movements were cathartic.

Cooking never left him. It never disappointed him. He could rely on this.

“Carm?” She tilts her head and meets his eyes.

“Sorry.” He cleared his throat “We'll be,” he searched for the words. What would ex-lovers become if they ran a restaurant together? "Friends?"

She chuckled surprised at how heavy and foreign the word sounded in this context. But that was better than strangers or whatever the fuck they've been these past couple months.

"Friends with Chef Carmen Berzatto." She slowly nodded becoming familiar with the term that now described their relationship. "I'll take it."

They waited for the words to settle and for the air to return back to normal but it hadn't and eventually Carmy finished plating their breakfast.

"I'm gonna hop in the shower then head out.” He began walking away before she could reply.

"We're not eating together?"

"I'm not that hungry actually!" He closed the bathroom door behind him.

Time apart would be good, Carmy thought. They’d get time to think and to grow. This was good.

This had to be good.

✓ A pen.

✓ The ceiling fan.

✓ Boots.

✓ The TV.

✓ A pillow.

Five things he could see, check.

‘Gauge your surroundings. This will help ground you.’

Carmy's therapist taught him this method not too long ago. It quickly became one of the only things that could ground him nowadays.

She taught it to him towards the end of one of their first sessions. Her voice was calm and slow, drawing him out in a steady tempo of gentle negotiation. She spoke to him as if he had a bomb strapped to his chest and any sudden movements would set it off. He’ll never forget that day.

He was finally opening up about Mikey, telling her all about how they didn't have the best relationship but he somehow felt closer to him after his death. He hadn't realized how much he'd spaced out until he opened his eyes and he was back in his mother's house. Glass was breaking. A million alarms blared in his ears replacing his thoughts. Everybody was yelling. He couldn't breathe.

A panic attack in front of a stranger was new.

When he finally calmed down he realized that the world hadn't exploded and chunks of the rock weren't drifting through space leaving him to float in the vast unknown.

He was still in her office. He was still alive.

He blinked the memory away and rubbed his hands against his jeans, hoping the rough feeling against his sweaty palms would bring him back to earth.

He began naming four things he could touch under his breath.

"Jeans." He continued moving his hands over his thighs.

"Lambskin jacket." The inside was lined with fur.

"Shutter." It sat atop his bedside lamp - the warmth felt nice again his palm.

"Blanket." Sugar gifted it to him this past Christmas, it was way too fluffy but it did keep him warm at night.

What could he hear?

A bird chirping just outside of the window. It’d been going for a while he realized.

The low hum of electricity.

His phone beeping.

He took note. Then it beeped again and again until he descended from the clouds and found that it was ringing. He did a double-take at the contact before answering.

“Carmy?” Her voice bled through the receiver and he felt like he could breathe again.

Light. He felt it shining through the phone.

“You there?”

“Yeah, I,” He inhaled more air before blowing it out in once quick exhale. “I’m here.”

“Are you okay?” She worried her bottom lip, listening for any signs of distress.

She promised herself before her move that she'd focus on looking forward not back. But being friends with Carmy kept her feet firmly planted in the past. She felt them slipping back into the place they were at just before they got together.

Their exchanges were far too soft, far too thoughtful, and far too tense to be simply platonic. She had to remind herself that they'd been there and done that. This was good.

This was better.

“I am. I was just- it’s nothing." He scratched the back of his head. Unruly curls tangled around his nimble fingers. "Trying this 5,4,3,2,1 method my therapist taught me. It helps me calm down..." He plopped down on his couch and threw his head back to stare at the ceiling. "I was actually thinking about things I could hear before you called.”

“I know that method." She replied before checking the time.

She didn't need to leave for another 15 minutes. “If I’m not mistaken you have 2 more steps to go then.”

“I'm okay now, you- you help me breathe.” He confessed through a relieved chuckle. "So, tell me are you running that place yet or what?"

Sydney grinned but didn't let his charming words deter her. “What are two things you can smell.” She encouraged.

He realized his leg was still bouncing, maybe he wasn’t completely grounded. “I made spaghetti earlier and accidentally put too much garlic, so, garlic.”

“I bet it was still fire.” She hummed almost dreamily remembering the taste of his cooking.

“Wish you were here to taste it.” He muttered sadly playing with a rip in his jeans.

“Alright, big guy don’t go soft on me now.” She teased ignoring the butterflies in her belly. “What else can you smell?”

“Ah, my cologne I guess it’s new I kinda hate it." He pulled at the collar of his shirt, bringing it up to his nose before dropping it. "Too, I don’t know, fancy.”

“Yeah, you do love an earthy scent." She closed her eyes missing him now more than ever. Missing the way he smelled when he held her close and did the thing with his hips that made her words sound like simlish. "Now lastly what can you taste?”

“I had a stick of orbit earlier and the taste is still in my mouth.” He waited a beat. "Happy now?"

“Beaming!" She switched ears and walked to look out her window.

The small apartment she was subleasing was located smack dab in the middle of the art district. She enjoyed the sounds of the neighborhood at night and there was always some sort of performance art near the corner store she frequented. None of that mattered though, she rarely got to enjoy the artistic views because just outside of her window was a brick wall.

She ignored the symbolic implications that screamed at her every time she'd stare at it for too long.

“I feel alright- great actually, thank you Syd”

“No prob Carm." The heavy silence only reminded them of their distance. Sydney was the first to speak. "I'm adjusting to this place quicker than I expected actually.”

“Of course you are. You’re an amazing cook.”

He closed his eyes, trying to conjure her image in his head.

It was fuzzy and out of focus. Her complexion wasn't as vibrant. Her eyes were the wrong shade of brown. He missed how they flashed red in the sun. And pictures were just sobering reminders that she wasn't there with him.

He had to stop looking at them for his sanity.

“You’re reliable and confident."

A day without seeing her face was a day too many.

"Hey, you wanna Facetime?”

“Yeah one sec.” After a few seconds her face came into view.

Carmy felt his chest tighten. He’d spent their time apart creating this image of her in his head. He assumed because he missed her so much the image he created wasn’t accurate, there’s no way that she was that beautiful.

She was though. She was even more captivating than he remembered.

 Ve​nust: beautiful, comely, graceful, elegant.

Their busy schedules kept them from speaking to each as often as they wanted. Even when she lived in Chicago, they’d seen each other mostly in the kitchen.

Now they had to schedule appointments to talk. How bleak.

This phone call wasn't scheduled though.

“Hey, why’d you call?”

“Shit! Right, I called you. I was talking to Marcus the other day and apparently his friend from Copenhagen is coming here to fill in for someone. Isn’t that cool?”

She had her phone set up on her counter as she went about cooking. Carmy watched her in silence missing the way she moved around his kitchen.

“Luca? That's new. At least you'll kinda know someone there.” He hummed. “Are you making Bouillabaisse?”

"He's supposed to be arriving tomorrow." She stirred her simmering concoction. "How do you do that?" She chuckles keeping her eyes on the cloudy liquid. “I am. I’m cooking for everybody tomorrow including Luca and I’m super nervous so I’m trying out a few things!”

“Why are you so nervous?” He could really only think of one or two times she was genuinely nervous about her cooking.

Each time he wanted to grab her and convince her just how amazing she was. To stop doubting herself.

Then again he was probably being bias.

“Marcus speaks so highly of Luca and I know you and him are acquainted. I just want to live up to the hype.” She rambled.

“You will Syd.” He promised.

It was late. It was very late in Chicago so it was late in California and she still hadn't called.

He'd been busy all day so he didn't think twice about her promise to call later that day. But, he couldn't sleep and he'd grown tired of watching black and white reruns.

He tried not to watch his phone like a hawk but each time it lit up he couldn't help but grab it.

When she finally did call he had nodded off to sleep.

"Did I wake you I'm sorry!" She winced realizing how late it must've been. "I'll call back-"

"No!" He sat up "it's okay, I'm up." He yawned checking the time, 3:00 AM. He yawned again as he stood to grab a glass of water. "What's got you out so late?"

"It's only 1:00 where I am!"

"Still."

"Luca brought this special wine and we all got drunk off of one glass and did karaoke"

"Sounds like fun." He replied sincerely, preoccupied with boiling water. Tea would help him get back to sleep after their conversation. "How was the dinner? Did you impress everybody?"

"I did!" She exclaimed. "Sorry if I’m being loud.” He could almost see the expression she was donning. “Did you know that weed is legal here?"

Carmy grinned realizing she was still tipsy and probably a little buzzed. Whenever she had a little bit too much to drink she'd get this slur in her speech. Each word would hug the next and her Chicagoan accent grew thicker. She laughed a lot more, Carmy would worry about her cheeks hurting by the end of the night.

He gnawed on his lip to keep from confessing how badly he wanted to see her and kiss that smile off of her face. That's not how friends talked to each other after all.

"They loved it but Luca made this braised wagyu," She groaned. "Hands down, the best dish I've ever had!"

Carmy paused switching his phone to the other ear. "The best?" He masked the crack in his voice with a chuckle. "Luca?" He scrunched his nose up.

He didn't understand why that statement made him feel uncomfortable (for lack of a better term) but it did and he didn't like it. Previous to this development she always remarked about how his food was the best she ever had. He held that close to him, clinched between his finger afraid of losing it. Afraid of losing her favor. Her compliments felt like a drug and he was forever chasing that high. Wanting to please her. Have her direct that smile and those dangerous eyes at him. 

"Yes, you have to try it!"

"Maybe...'m not a huge fan of Wagyu. Also, I've tried his cooking before." He didn't know why he was lying. He loved Wagyu.

Luca was a good enough cook, not better than Carmy, but decent.

His hands rattled as he stirred honey into his piping hot tea. That unwelcome feeling twisted within him tugging him down to a level of immaturity he despised. Maybe as a teenager this would feel more normal but as he stands now it felt unhinged.

His chest burned as he tuned back into Syd's rambling.

"…I invited him to eat at The Bear when I fly back for my birthday next month."

"Ah, so you two are friends?" He continued, voice soft. He couldn't bring himself to ask her the question any louder.

"Of course! He's so cool Carmy. He's a beast in the kitchen. He's teaching me how to make this cake that has an insane amount of layers tomorrow."

"You really like this guy..." He muttered. "I'm happy you're getting on well there. Really, Syd you deserve this." He continued with renewed interest.

Aside from those weird feelings, he couldn't quite pin down, he knew that his job was hyping her up. Being a supporter. A friend.

One day he’ll stop having to remind himself of that sobering fact. 

"Thanks." She settled on her bed. "I miss you."

He hoped it happened soon.

"I miss y-" he began, but she continued on without missing a beat.

"I miss everybody at The Bear"

"Well, we miss you too."

Today was slow. It went smoothly. There were virtually no mistakes made in the kitchen and Carmy found himself with extra time on his hands.

He could be normal and go home or go out for a drink, but alas he preferred the kitchen. There was always something to do in the kitchen after all.

"Hey are you busy?" Sydney lounged on her couch, exhausted from the busy day she had.

He looked around finding that he was in fact not busy and had finished all of his tasks.

"Nope, what's up?"

"I got secret shopped again!"

"Damn chef," he whistled "you're on fire. Once this year once last year."

"The asswipe said my lobster tail was 'overcooked'."

"Lobster tails' easy to mess up." He shrugged "I have this method I can show you when you visit."

"No, actually its okay. Luca taught me this technique and it came out so much better."

“Right, right." He cleared his throat hoping the popping in his ears stopped. He tugged on his earlobe before grabbing a damp towel and wiping down the same spot he'd just finished wiping down.

There goes that weird feeling again, creeping up his body forcing him to move until it subsided.

"What is he like,” he hesitated. “He’s mentoring you now?”

If she heard the shakiness in his voice she ignored it.

"Not sure if I'd say all that. He's a good teacher though, kinda filling that gap." She replied busy multitasking.

Her phone sat on the bathroom counter with the speaker turned up so she could still carry on with the conversation. Her braids bunched up comfortably under her silk scarf. By morning her scarf would've slipped from her head and made its way to the floor and her braids would be sprawled across her silk pillow. It's the thought that counts.

"You told me he was good but dude he's like your level good."

She grabbed her phone and made her way to bed. At the sound of his bashful laughter she felt a pinch in her chest akin to an esophageal spasm.

Missing him had grown physical and she just wanted to keep him on the phone. She was hoping that the sound of his voice bleeding through her phone would comfort her.

She could lie back and imagine that he was right beside her, that he followed her here like she wanted him to. But he had his own shit he had to sort out. She knew begging him to come and see her every time she missed him wouldn't be feasible because she missed him every second of every day.

But Carmy, who was on the other side of the world, it seemed, didn't know this. He only heard her praises of Luca shooting out of the phone like spears and piercing him until he didn't want to be on the phone with her anymore.

"I actually do have something I need to do. Catch up later?"

"Sure..." she stared at her phone screen as he hung up.

She remained there trying to figure out where things went wrong and why he rushed off the phone. The screen soon turned black and she saw her reflection staring back at her.

She didn't get much sleep that night.

"So you're just not gonna visit?" He frowned. "It's your birthday Syd, come on just take a couple days off I'll buy you a ticket myself."

'I just wanna see you!' He stubbornly thought.

"I can't. It sucks for me too, but it’s the mayor. I can't exactly pass up serving the mayor." She frowned looking at a framed photo of the two of them at The Bear's official opening.

'"Come on Carmy stop working for one second and get a picture with Syd!" Sugar grabbed his arm dragging him out of the kitchen and out front where Sydney directed a delivery man around back. She moved to follow him and make sure he found his way when Sug grabbed her arm and placed her next to an annoyed Carmy.

"Natalie we open in 2 hours I don't have time for this." He huffed placing his hands on his hips.

"Yeah and I think he's taking the order to the wrong entrance." Syd looked behind her following a delivery man with her eyes. She began to call out to him when Sug grabbed her shoulder making her turn back around.

"If you two stand still for a second I can get a picture and you can go back to stressing out, okay?" She rolled her eyes "You guys looks so cute in your matching outfits!" She beamed holding her phone up.

"Uh, everybody's wearing these?" Sydney looked around ignoring Sugars sound of indignation. Carmy stifled a laugh agreeing with her.

"Just smile." She gave up trying to reason with them. Carmy threw his hand over Syd's shoulder and threw his other hand out to Sugar.

"Okay, okay see I'm smiling come on take the picture!"

Syd was caught laughing, her eyes closed. While Carmy was caught with his mouth open, his hand thrown towards the camera. He hated it, but Syd thought it was perfect.

"No, no- yeah, you're right." He settled. Not much else was said after that. Carmy sighed closing the cookbook he'd been perusing for the perfect cake recipe and headed home.

“Fuck, sorry Chef!” Syd winced feeling warm all over. She’d stayed behind with Luca so he could teach her a few tricks. However, in the span of just an hour she compared his cooking techniques to Carmy’s about five times. But who's counting.

“All good, Syd. I never thought about trying that! He laughed. “And relax you can call me Luca”

”Right, Luca.” She continued “I’m just feeling a little homesick. My birthday is tomorrow and I decided to stay back because you know the whole mayor hoopla.”

She was close to saying screw the mayor just so she could hop on a red eye and do something pathetic like beg her ex-boyfriend for sloppy, rough, no-strings-attached birthday sex.

He nodded sympathetically before putting down his knife, a brilliant idea on his tongue.

“How about I take you out for a drink afterwards?”

”Maybe...I’m usually so tired after work. I was talking to a few servers last week and Fay talked about wanting to go out this weekend too-”

”I mean I can take you.” He waited a beat before hesitantly adding. “Just us...”

”Oh," she cleared her throat finding it harder to look him in the eyes. "Like a date?” She raised an eyebrow.

”Yes," he chuckled. "If that’s okay with you?”

She never got used to being hit on or asked out. She grew up awkward and introverted. But something happened when she turned 20.

Like a Cinderella transformation or something. Men were falling over themselves. Women began batting their eyelashes at her and inviting her to sleepovers. She soon realized that they were flirting with her and by sleepovers they meant sex.

Her immediate thought was to turn him down. But she couldn't find a good enough reason other than it would probably hurt Carmy's feelings.

He had been dodging her phone calls though. They barely spoke these days. Maybe he's moved on. Maybe he didn't care what she did.

She eventually remembered herself and she remembered that she and Carmy were just friends. So she put on her best smile and nodded.

"I'd love that."

Later That Evening

“I got the knives you sent me." She toyed with one, balancing it on her fingertips gauging how heavy it was. "Thank you they're really fucking nice.”

“I'm happy you like them. Just something I saw and decided to pick up...” He ran a shaky hand over his mouth. "For you. F-For your birthday I mean."

He didn't know when he started feeling nervous speaking to her but it sucked. He felt like a teenager. He even found himself avoiding her calls, figuring that if they continued speaking every day and night he'd never get over her.

At this point he didn't know if he wanted to get over her or if it was a possibility.

She'd gotten under his skin. Digging her way to his fractured heart and somehow making a home out of it.

He felt like a fucking loser, blushing during a phone call. A fucking phone call.

“You saw five hundred-dollar knives just lying around and bought them?" She replied endeared.

“Well, you know how it goes." He shrugged.

Heat rushed to his face again.

Realistically he figured he was going to get them for her months ago, but telling her that felt too eager. Like he was trying too hard to impress her.

“So," She sat the knife down but couldn't stop eyeing it. The pristine set sparkled under the warm lighting in her living room. Her eyes caught her name engraved at the bottom of one of the vegetable knives. 

Warmth covered her neck and traveled up her cheeks.

''Just decided to pick them up' my ass.'

"How's The Bear been with me gone?”

“You know, we’re staying afloat. The new hires are all great. Everybody's been getting better and better. And Marcus?" He whistled. "He's doing some shit I haven't even tried."

"I'm gonna have to ask him to overnight me some donuts or something." Her phone vibrated momentarily pulling her from the conversation.

Luca (restaurant): I know we'll probably be wiped after tomorrow so I'll stop by later on around midnight? I know this great place that's open late

"Looks like Copenhagen did him well." Carmy noted.

Like an incessant alarm her conscience rudely screamed at her. She had to tell him sooner or later.

"Hey, so, speaking of Denmark, I have a um I have something to tell you..."

He waited for her to continue speaking for a bit, but her deep sigh caught his attention.

"Whats up? Everything okay?"

“It's just-" she clenched her fist over her mouth wanting to swallow her next set of words. Through gritted teeth she finally choked it out. "Me and Luca are go-going on a, going on a date tomorrow." She waited a beat. "He wanted to take me out for my birthday!" Another awkward beat. "And I thought it’d be weird for me not to tell you considering...well you know.”

He didn’t speak for a while.

"I'm sorry if that's weird but I'd feel weirder not telling you." She winced bracing herself as she awaited his response.

He blinked a few times, pulling his phone away from his ear to look at her contact photo. Yeah that was still Syd on the phone.

He felt like he was speaking with a stranger not the girl he loved. The girl who would never purposely hurt him. Her voice was muffled, like she'd been submerged in water.

Now he wanted to be as far away from his phone as possible.

"You still there?" She bit her thumbnail regretting her words.

"I am I" He cleared his throat, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. "I just didn't expect that. That's all.” His voice quieted, just above a whisper now.

"I know. Was it weird that I told you? Are things weird now?" She tried to keep the panic out of her voice but it was evident.

"No, not weird." He cleared his throat in an attempt to find his voice. But when he spoke again the only thing he could muster was a hint of what his voice could be.

If Syd didn't know any better she'd think she heard heartbreak in his voice. But they were over right? They'd been over. They had to move on from each other.

Lingering wasn't healthy. No matter how romantic The Cranberries made it sound. 

Although she felt this way, she couldn't help but feel like she betrayed him. A Delilah stringing her lover along just to chop off his golden curls when he slipped into comfort. Just when he felt like he could let his guard down.

"I am a little busy so-so I have to check on that uh that," he snapped his fingers a few times. "Delivery. The delivery for tomorrow morning."

"Wait, what? I don't understand?"

"I'll touch bases with you this weekend." He didn't wait for her to answer before hanging up.

Syd found herself once again staring at her phone screen. It lit up momentarily reminding her of the unanswered text from Luca. With little reluctance she replied.

Syd: I can't wait! :)

Dinner went off without a hitch and the mayor even complement Sydney personally. By 10:00 P.M. she was on her way home and by 10:30 she sat on her couch, finger hovering over Carmy's name.

"He doesn't care Syd." He hadn't even wished her a happy birthday. "Just get ready for your date." She whispered to herself. "Maybe, I'll just send a text..."

Syd: Not to brag but the mayor said she never had a steak quite like mine

With that done she plugged her phone in the charger and began getting ready for her date. The date she was excited to go on and not at all dreading.

Every 10 minutes she'd check her phone for a response from Carmy. But nothing, he hadn't even seen the message. She huffed turning back to the mirror to pull her braids into a high ponytail.

The doorbell chimed over the radio playing oldies in her living room.

“Fuck he’s here early!” She cursed checking the time before rushing to the door only to find someone she thought she left back in Chicago.

“Carmy?”

“Hey." He strolled inside pulling his luggage behind him. His baby blues drinking her in. “You look nice.”

Keep it polite, he reminded himself. She looked more than nice, skin shiny and sparkling. Perfume pulling him closer and closer.

He cracked his knuckles, stopping himself from reaching out and touching her.

There were moments, fleeting, minuscule, when her voice would radiate from his phone. Resonating, seducing him. It made him want to reach through the receiver and feel her warmth.

He had to settle on touching himself. Then he'd feel like a creep and swear it off. It never stuck.

Now she was here, within reach, looking like that for someone else. He brushed his knuckles against his lips admiring her from a safe distance.

“Got any plans?”

She blinked a few times, hand still on the nob, door ajar. "Uh yeah, Luca is on his way.” She scoffed finally snapping out of it.

With each stride she took toward him, he felt his pulse drum faster.

“I told you that last night?”

She crossed her arms watching as he studied her. As if she were a puzzle or a Monet. He marveled almost. No one ever looked at her quite like he did.

“Right, you two are seeing each other or whatever.” He twisted his mouth instantly wanting the nasty taste of those words out his mouth.

He distracted himself by looking around her living room. His heart lurched when he came across a photo of the two of them on the morning of The Bear's official open. The entire staff took turns taking pictures together, they took several as a group but Sug just couldn’t resist getting a pic of them out front in their matching fits.

It was framed, he noted with reddening cheeks. "You got it framed.” He cooed just under a whisper.

“Of course, it's my proudest accomplishment.” His black t-shirt stretched across his back as he leaned forward to examine the picture more closely. A few strands of his hair were kissing his forehead when he faced her again.

"Proudest huh?" Something was different about him. Whatever it was evaded her. His hair wasn't in it's normal state, busy and tangled, instead his curls neatly sat upon his crown. He never really wore jewelry but now he donned a thin chain that played peak-a-boo with her wandering eyes. "Mine too."

He wasn't as jittery as he usually was. His hands were still, almost too still. This wasn't the Carmy she left in Chicago. He momentarily broke eye contact, a fleeting admission of anxiety that was gone by the time he captured her gaze again.

This was a facade she decided. There was something troubling him. Something huge that she knew he wouldn't be able to keep under wraps for long.

His tongue grazed his bottom lip, she watched it go.

She shook her head, plunging her thoughts into ice cold water.

"That's doesn't- what are you doing here?"

"Ouch" he placed a hand over his chest, leaning back as if she physically hit him. "Is it a crime to visit my friend?"

She cut her eyes at him growing increasingly more frustrated at his casualness. His gum chewing. His stupid hair that was always messy but for some reason was now perfect. And god those stupid eyes, she could excuse everything else if it wasn't for his penetrative stare.

Always calling to her. Burning up her skin, leaving her insides vibrating for minutes until she worked up the courage to will those feelings away.

"Carmen," she took a deep breath. "Please don't play with me right now. I have plans."

"Right, and you're still going?" He questioned like he was asking her for the time. "Because I really need to talk to you."

"What? I'm supposed to overlook you conveniently showing up the night I have a date?" She blew a raspberry, feeling her nerves burn up at his expression. "And stop looking at me like that!"

He maintained eye contact, trying his hardest to keep his smile at bay. He missed this.

"Okay I admit my timing isn't the best..." He trailed off shoving his hands in his pocket. "But I just needed to see you, Sydney. I need to talk to you."

"I actually have this really cool new invention called the cellphone-" she crossed the room grabbing her phone. The device flashed on as she turned around holding it up. "Would you look at that? It works! Did you forget that the phone worked both ways?"

"In person," he sighed finally dropping his facade. Apparently his sad attempt at charm was falling on deaf ears. "Can I please have a second of you time? Then I'm gone." His previous bravado had dissipated, leaving room for him to be himself. "I just need to, need you to hear me."

She shouldn't be talking to him right now. She left him in Chicago. She left all that stress and dysfunction, and this relationship behind. How did it still find her? What possessed him to chase after her?

"Luca will be here any minute, I mean after-"

"Why do you like him so much?" He cut her off, twiddling his thumbs - a pensive expression covering his face. He rubbed a finger over his eyebrow, a nervous tick. "Its like all you talk about is him. What is it? Are you fa-falling" he gulped, trying to conjure moisture in his mouth. "How serious are you two?"

"Carmen Berzatto, you took a 4 hour flight because I'm going out on one date with a guy I've known for a few months?" She shook her head. "This can't be healthy."

"I just need to know if you plan on dating this guy." He shrugged, hands palm up and outstretched. "As your friend I feel like I have an obligation. I care about you so much-"

"Cut the shit. You came here because you're jealous."

He felt the tips of his ears warm at her accusation. A very true one at that.

"I've been obsessed with you since before we even spoke to each other and I finally have the guts to have a drink with some other guy and you do this?"

“It's not just that Syd" His voice teetering on a desperate plea. Fuck if it didn't tug at her heart strings.

"Then what is it? What made you get your ass on a plane and show up at my door in the middle of the night."

He ran a hand through his hair effectively messing up the expert styling he'd done in the airport bathroom. "I-I missed you and I wanted to talk to you, and it's your birthday."

She stared at him long and hard before giving up and plopping down on her couch. "Okay. What did you want to talk about?" She checked her phone to find Luca had sent an 'On the way!' text.

"Are you thinking of moving here? Permanently, I mean." He sat on the bar stool adjacent from her, his leg shaking incessantly. "You mentioned Luca being the best cook in the world or something like that and I just wanted to know if you thought he was good enough to stay or maybe you'd want to go cook with him where ever he ends up."

She quirked her eyebrow, taking time to survey his face for any sign of humor but he was stone cold serious. That was when she surprised herself - and Carmy - with laughter.

"You're serious right now?"

"What? Why are you laughing at me?" He stopped shaking his leg. That reaction wasn't right, was it?

"I'm not..." She shook her head as she lifted up a finger. The sweet sound floated around them. Carmy shifted uncomfortably noticing how warm his face was growing. "All of this is because I said I liked his cooking?"

"No." He balked. Even he could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

She tilted her head to the side letting her laughter subside. She was looking at him how she used to again. With warmth and maybe even love, but he didn't want to get his hopes up.

"He's not going to replace you Carmy."

He felt embarrassed. Like these last few months in therapy were all for nothing. He didn't try any of his exercises and he overreacted. Now he felt like a possessive prick who can't get over his ex-girlfriend - who works for him.

He should probably make Sug head of HR, because their lack thereof was becoming starkly noticeable.

He should just leave. Go before she could officially cut him off. Get out of her hair for good. He didn't remember standing up but she was soon standing before him, placing a gentle hands on his shoulders.

"Stop it." She broke through his thoughts.

"What?"

"I said stop it. God I can hear your thoughts from here." She inched closer to him before running her hand from his shoulders to his clammy hands "Luca is cool and yes we have a date but I think I have something to say to you too."

He stiffened staring at their joined hands.

"Whats that?" He replied thickly. As if tears were threatening there way out of his downcast eyes.

She used two fingers to lift his head until he was looking her in the eyes.

"Carmy, I'm not going anywhere." Flashes of his vulnerable confession just before they hooked up came back to her.

She wanted to say this back then, she wanted to tell him that she didn't want their hookup to be a dead end but she felt weak for feeling that way. Like she had to prove something to herself, to the world, and to Carmy. She wanted to prove that he didn't have the upper hand. She could now see how naive that was.

"I want to be with you. L-like we were before, but healthier." She suppressed a grin but he caught it. "I have this huge, never ending, and frankly inconvenient crush on you. And I don't know man, it's gonna take a lot to get rid of me."

”I love you." It felt like the weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Like he'd been baptized in cool water and his vitality had been renewed. "I don’t want you to feel like I’m this brainless prick. I know I don't own you and coming here was probably the last thing you wanted but-" he grabbed both her hands. "It's you Syd. You drive me crazy."

Bright flecks of happiness peaked from within him and shined against Sydney.

"And it's you."

Those grating feelings of uncertainly that dominated his thoughts and body began seeping out, never to be felt again. He was ready to let go of the baggage that came with doubt. He hoped Syd wouldn't pick it back up.

"So, what are you saying? You want me back?" He knocked their hands together, swinging them in a childlike bout of giddiness.

"Only if you'll take me back." She confessed, remaining hopeful that they were still on the same page.

He brought her hands up to his mouth and kissed each knuckle keeping his eyes connected with hers.

"Are you crazy?" And that was all it took really. He let go of her hands and didn't spare a second to pull her against his chest and inhale the fruitiness of her aroma.

She smelled like a freshly cut mango on a summer day. When you'd suck at the seed and the nectar would run down your arms. You couldn't bring yourself to care because it tasted so damn good.

Her lips felt like home. She tasted like she had before. He cradled her head between his hands, devouring her. His hands traveled down to her waist pulling her flush against him.

She gasped at the movement but let him will her body to his control. She missed how he held her. She missed how his hair felt between her fingers. How he kissed her like he couldn't get enough of her. His kiss was something that never changed.

He didn't care to pull away or open his eyes when the doorbell rang. Syd felt his arms pull her impossibly closer when there was a knock.

He'd forgotten all about Luca, who was innocent in all of this, but he was having a hard time rationalizing that.

Syd was the one that pulled back causing a sound of disapproval to leave Carmy's mouth. She remained in his grasp. She wasn't sure if she could get out of it if she tried. His hands clasped her in a firm grip, like she'd slip away if he let go.

"What are you gonna do?" He questioned bracing himself for her answer. She looked from him to the door and back again.

"I'll go talk to Luca." She decided. "I'll let him know I can't come out tonight."

"Okay." He breathed, finally letting her go. He missed her softness, how had he gone so long without this.

She pecked his cheek sweetly, briefly, admiring the scattered freckles littering his neck.

“Be right back." She promised before turning to get the door.

Carmy watched as the door closed behind her. He exhaled and looked up to the ceiling and thanked whatever god was up there that coming here actually worked. 

"Woah Syd, in a hurry to go?" Luca jested backing up as Syd stepped outside. He looked down admiring her outfit choice but stopping short at her feet. More specifically her choice in shoes. "No offense but, are these house slippers?"

"Uh," she glanced down. "Yes they are. Look-" She was trying and failing at internally psyching herself up. She loved Carmy, but this still made her feel like shit. "You know Carmy right? Chef Carmen Berzatto?"

He slowly nodded and raised an eyebrow. "I think you may have mentioned him once or twice also I kind of worked with him." He chuckled teasingly. "What about him?"

"Right, you did." She winced. "He actually dropped in and I'd feel bad leaving him inside and I'm so sorry but"

"You're canceling our date." He supplied.

She nodded shamefully. "Sorry, I just - we, I mean Carmy and I- and, and you drove all the way here. I just"

"Hey, hey Sydney it's alright." He laughed, hand shooting up to stop her. "I understand. We aren't reciting vows." He laughed more so to himself this time. "Mind if I say hello?"

She hummed imaging how that could turn out. She considered them being adults and not animals but she also considered how badly she wanted to send him away and climb on top of Carmy and stay there until the sun came up.

"Sure." She welcomed him in.

Carmy paused his nervous pacing, his eyes caught Syd's as she put on her best I'm sorry face and mouthed 'Be nice'.

"Chef Berzatto!" He reached a hand out waiting for Carmy to shake it. Carmy stared at it before Syd coughed breaking him out of it and forcing him to shake Luca's hand.

"Hey man." He cleared his throat shoving his hands in his pocket. A bout of awkward silence passes through the room. "How you been? Marcus said you've made quite the name for yourself in Denmark."

"I could say the same about you." He grinned "It's been great though. But it's different here. I'm actually considering a move out here, check out a few more places. Mind if I borrow Chef Sydney though?"

Carmy didn't answer not knowing exactly how to respond without it coming out snarky or rude. So he simply didn't respond.

"Just jokes, just jokes!" He broke the tension. "Well, I just came in to say hello. See how you were getting on."

"You know how it is, Chef. There's always something." He replied plainly.

Luca nodded sensing that his presence was no longer wanted. The air was slowly being sucked out of the room. The longer he stood between Syd and Carmy the more he realized their building tension.

When he moved she moved, when she breathed he replied with his own pattern of inhale and exhale. After seeing the way Sydney looked at Carmy he wondered how he ever thought she looked at him with any hint of attraction.

"I'm gonna head out." He nodded his head towards the door. "Bye Syd, see you Saturday. Come in early so I can finally teach you how to make Chocolat au Crumble de Fraises." He closed the door behind him.

Carmy kept his eyes on the door. "Have I ever told you how annoying that guys is?" 

Syd laughed sauntering over to her cabinet to pour herself a drink.

"Shut up Luca is a cool guy."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He playfully replied following her path and grabbing himself a glass. "Hey, I'm sorry about not telling you about inviting" he cleared his throat, "yeah to-to uh dinner."

"Carmy..."

"Please, just, can I actually offer a real explanation?" He waited for her to give him the go.

After she nodded he continued

"We ran into each other, randomly, she was still a little prickly towards me. I you know, I felt so bad. She's still a friend of the family, right? And I didn't know what to say, so I invited her to dinner. I didn't stay the entire night and left before we even got to the second course." He gulped down his brown liquor. "We haven't spoken since. Promise."

She looked down at her drink. Warmth covering her face. She was thankful of her rich complexion, how it protected her from that kind of vulnerability.

"Thank you." She breathed, looking up from her nearly empty glass. "For that, you, I should've just talked to you. I shouldn't have been so mean."

“Stop it." He refilled her glass. He followed her movements as she sipped the sharp whiskey. Her lips were shiny once she pulled it back.

She shifted under his stare. Attempting to match him by watching him back. It only made the room grow warmer. She was pulsating now. Liquor had always spelled danger for her.

Thankfully he lost their unspoken competition.

"I actually forgot, one sec.” He released a deep breath, bending down to grab something out of his bag. A manila envelope.

She eyed it curiously, intrigued by what he had up his sleeve. He ran a finger over his right brow before extending it towards her.

“Here”

She took the envelope and slowly opened it. It was a contract. A contract for The Bear. Establishing her as a co-owner along with Carmy. 

“You okay?” His soft voice broke her from her daze. He ducked his head catching her watery eyes.

She blinked realizing that tears were welling in her eyes. She wiped them quickly in embarrassment.

”Fuck sorry.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what to say.”

"No, it's not, you don’t have to say anything right now." He assured. "The Bear is as much mine as it is yours. This isn’t me trying to make you stay in Chicago. I’d never do that to you, I know you want to do more than work in that shithole” he mocked. “But it’s, it's ours isn't it?  I want you to know you’ll always have a home.”

She kicked herself for letting more tears pass her lids. They were quickly wiped away as well. She shook her head skimming over it and seeing the signature line at the bottom. All she had to do was sign.

“Jesus, Carmy would’ve been easier if you asked me to marry you.” She laughs eyes still on the paper reading the header over and over again. She could own something. Something that wasn't destined to fail.

He hummed thoughtfully, “You’re right, it would be easier if I asked you to marry me.”

They let the thought linger. She gently placed the papers back on the envelop.

"Thanks again, for-for telling me about the uh dinner thing. I know we weren’t together so of really wasn't any of my business-“

"Together or not, don’t want you thinking I don’t care about your feelings.“ His words hit her deeply. How careful he always was especially with her. She pulled him into a hug, relaxing as she held onto him.

His hair smelled freshly washed and he was wearing some fancy cologne. Leaning back she took him in, more carefully this time.

”What’s got you all dressed up?” She raised an eyebrow.

He looked down at himself then back at her, “Didn’t want to ask you to be my business partner in a dingy white-tee.”

"You could’ve.“ She laughed. “But you look really nice. I like your cologne...“

"It’s the one I hate.“ He noted “Nat said I should wear it.”

"She knows you came?”

”She drew up our contract” He explained “She wants no legal obligation to that place by the end of the year.”

"Better me than her I guess." Her reply was absentminded as she trailed Carmy's body. How could someone who ate like a frat boy maintain a body like his.

"What?” He looked down self consciously.

"Have you been working out?” She always knew him to be fit but she swears his biceps were bigger than they were the last time she saw him. 

"Yeah, been hitting the gym hard since you left.” He shrugged. “Helps with stress”

”I’m sure it does.” She rips her eyes away from his arms to pour herself a heftier drink. “You look great.” The compliment slipped out of her. "You know what else helps with stress?"

Shut up Syd. SHUT UP.

"No, what is that?"

His arms rested on the counter, outstretched past her. She swayed brushing against it, stumbling back onto the bar stool behind her.

He didn't know if he wanted to look at her drawing eyes or kissable lips. His eyes darted between both as he leaned closer to her, wanting to know the secret she kept.

She should've stopped drinking one glass ago, now her filter was withering away and her sober mind was locked behind a cage guarded by her horny intoxicated mind.

Sydney's alarm made the both of them jump away from each other.

With this distraction, her sense came rushing back. They shouldn't have sex.

Not now.

She had work in the morning and everything was still so fresh. Plus she was feeling like a fucking doofus around him and she didn't know why.

Her reasoning sounded like B.S. in this moment but somewhere in her head it made sense.

"I'm- that's my alarm for bed." She chuckled, as she slid off the bar stool, temporarily swaying a bit too close to him. He followed her as she moved away, so close to kissing her but he decided against it at the last minute. "Just gonna go get ready for bed." With that she left.

Carmy watched her disappear behind her bathroom door and waited until the shower cut on to breath. He pressed his hand against the seam of his jeans, willing his hard on away.

Steam billowed out before her once she left the bathroom and padded over to her bedroom. He was looking over the Polaroids that hung above her dresser. Each memory she cherished. 

"Shit sorry." He turned around like he'd been caught red handed. "Didn't mean to intrude."

"No it's, you're fine." She pulled her towel, that she realized was entirely too short, closer. The fluffy white fabric stopped just below the curve of her ass.

He watched as a bead of water trailed over her collarbone and under the towel. She sat on her bed, fingers still tightly holding the towel around her.

"You, uh did you see the pic there at the top?"

Carmy heard her but he didn't have the capacity to respond. He was suddenly so thirsty. He missed how she tasted. He turned back around to find the photo she referred to.

Shifting, her thighs granted her temporary relief. Blood thudded inside of her.

"Holy shit is that?" He squinted his eyes trying to get a closer look at the photo. "It can't be we hadn't even met at that point." The restaurants name etched on a menu beside the dish confirmed his suspicions.

He prepared this dish during a time of devaluation and grief. He was alone and felt like he'd lost touch with his family. When really Mikey was just avoiding him. He was told it was never good enough. He was a fuck up who didn't know the first thing about cooking. He swore he'd never made it again - too many bad memories. Funny how even at the lowest point in his life, she seemed to find some good in him.

"Remember I told you I tried your cooking well before I met you."

"Yeah I remember I just," he glanced back at her, eyes dropping to her enticing thighs before darting back to the photo on the wall. "I-I didn't know you had a picture of it!" He chuckled. "Do you photograph all the food you eat?" He quirked an eyebrow, turning back to her. "Or was I special?"

He just wanted to hear her say it. He'd never ask her for anything else if she just called him special.

With each step forward an inferno blazed within her, it'd be impossible to look away now that he was so close.

She imagined this was how it felt after staring at the sun for too long. Hypnotized by its beauty. Blinded by it's ferocity. Appreciative of its life. She understood now why people worshiped the blazing ball in the sky.

He stood above her, overbearing almost. She looked up at him, trying not to shiver at his attention. She failed.

"You were special." Her voice was small. She feared speaking louder would give her away.

"Thought I was special, did you." He grinned knocking their knees together.

His mind wouldn't stop racing. He resisted his urges long enough, seeing that on her wall like it was art stirred something within him. She was always there seeing him for who he was and not who everybody wanted him to be. The depth of his feelings for her broke new ground, growing treacherous. He'd be terrified if he didn't trust her with his heart, his life. 

"I did." She replied, voice still hidden under her embarrassing desire.

"You're special too." He nudged her legs apart, moving closer. Still above her. Still staring down at her as if this were the most casual thing in the world. Beneath his depth he was anything but.

She wondered if he'd still respect her if she got on her knees right now.

If she begged for it. If she came by simply rubbing her body on his.

"You know that right?" The back of his hand grazed her cheeks. He could feel the warmth. She couldn't hide now.

She nodded, hypnotized by him, afraid to speak, fearing a feral moan would rang out.

"Can you say it for me?" He waited a second, hand now gently gripping the dip of her neck. "Say 'I'm special'."

"I-I'm special." She replied breathlessly. His eyes grew darker as he watched her squirm. She was dizzy now with desire. Seconds from dropping her towel and jumping his bones.

His hand that wasn't on her neck met her bottom lip, gently pulling it down. "Can I try something?" He left her mouth open, waiting for her reply.

She closed her mouth, gulping down the saliva that pooled there. She nodded and he smiled.

"Use your words."

She gulped down more saliva before speaking again

"Yes."

He gently tugged on her towel tossing it to the floor. She watched the tips of his ears turn red. Being fully clothed while she was on display like this was mind-boggling.

He opened his mouth to speak but his words were stuck in his throat. His stomach did back flips. He still didn't know how he landed someone so, "Beautiful." It was a whisper but she heard it.

He brought his fingers back up to her mouth but this time he gently shoved two fingers in her mouth. He stroked her tongue, being careful not to trigger her gag reflex.

Moaning drifted past her ears. She met his eyes, realizing it was her making those noises. She didn't know why but his fingers in her mouth pulled her closer and closer to the edge.

"Back up for me." He left his fingers against her tongue as she carefully backed further onto the bed. His knee nestled between her thighs as she settled on her back. "Gonna get you off, okay? Apologize for popping up like this."

She wanted to tell him there was no need to apologize but between her slowly slipping mind and his fingers against her tongue she simply nodded.

In an instant they were gone out of her mouth and circling her bud. She was so wound up, the first touch sent electricity through her. She trembled, frantically trying to control herself.

"Fuck Syd, didn't even need to do that." His fingers slipped easily into her. "You're so wet. So ready for me."

She nodded desperately, moving her hips, chasing an already building orgasm.

"So pretty. So pretty." He worried his bottom lip, watching her. What made her jerk, what made her moan, what made her eyes roll. "You're gonna make me cum in my pants." He huffs. "If you keep looking like that."

She clawed at his top, hands sliding up from under. She moaned his name, how could she be expected to form a clear sentence in that moment.

"Want me undressed too?" His soaked fingers rubbed her, applying just enough pressure. She feverishly nodded.

"Please." She managed to get something other than his name out of her mouth.

His touch was gone - she resisted the urge to throw a tantrum. She wanted him undressed after all. 

His chiseled body descended back on her. He immediately latched onto her neck. But he wasn't touching her like she wanted. Not like he was just seconds ago.

He soon noticed her vitriol and the fucker smiled.

"Relax," he continued kissing down her neck all the way down to her perky nipples. "I'll get you there, just missed this so much."

With each kiss he neared the place between her thighs.

Her mouth fell open once he latched onto her. Fingers slipping back into her.

With each come hither movement and each kiss worshiping her clit she moved closer and closer to the edge.

His tongue dancing in a firm circle pulling an orgasm out of her.

The feeling surprised her. This was different than all the other times. Her chest pounded and her thighs trembled. She gripped his curls and was pretty sure it made that fucker moan. She could feel the vibrations.

She loved him.

IloveyouIloveyouIloveyoufuckIloveyou

No one knew her like him. No one could do this to her but him. She didn't want anybody else to do this to her. With her.

He gently licked her, tongue slowly cleaning up her mess. He climbed up her body, nuzzling her neck.

"I love you too Syd."

Had she said that out loud?

He watched her come back to Earth, eyes low and hazy. He waited until she looked at him, clearly, to kiss her. She moaned when she tasted herself.

"You taste so good don't you?" He kissed her jaw. "Are you ready?"

She pulled him closer, far too weak and aroused to say anything.

He squeezed the base of his dick. He didn’t want to cum too fast, he wanted to relish in this. Savor it.

He exhaled as he pushed into her. He fit her so well. So easily. That stupid part of his brain preened at that. She was his.

He stilled once he bottomed out.

She was impatient. Feeling his throbbing head against that spot inside of her made her instinctively salivate. She canted her hips up, encouraging some sort of movement.

"Shit, you're" He buried his face in her neck as he began moving. Brutally. Slowly. As deep as he could get.

Her legs wrapped around him keeping him close. Needing him close. With each pound against her button she spiraled further and further into his spell. She felt drunk. In love. Dangerously so.

He groaned at her teeth digging into his shoulder, another orgasm echoed through her.

"Feel so good when you cum on my dick like that." He gripped the sheets, moving faster, more intentional - chasing his release. Her fitted sheets popped off of the corners of her mattress, rolling up under them.

She gripped the back of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. She moaned in his mouth and he swallowed it.

He was so close, losing his grip on reality. On sanity. He wanted to cum inside of her. "Wanna get you pregnant." His eyes were closed, he didn't see her reaction but she clenched around him. Her legs and arms pulled him closer like a Venus flytrap devouring its prey.

"Please" she gasped gripping him tighter. "I want it."

A noise he hadn't recognized as his voice left him, muffled against her neck. He pumped inside of her, once, twice, three times so deeply he was sure they'd have a pregnancy scare. He couldn't bring himself to care though.

After cleaning up and fixing the bed he rocked her in his arms.

"We should get a Plan B." He mentioned kissing her forehead. “Or not.”

"I have an IUD." She reminded him.

He tried to hide his disappointment.

"Aw come on ya big sap, give me a kiss."

He happily obliged.

Sydney was back home and she and Carmy's relationship was on the up and up. They were working on it and things seemed to be progressing exponentially.

"Remember when I said it'd be easier for you to just ask me to marry you?"

"I do." He looked up from the document he'd been filling out. Syd long ago tried to bring Carmy into the digital age, but he was stuck in his ways. It was endearing. "What about it?"

"Is that," she hesitates, hovering over uncharted waters. "Is marriage something you ever think about?" She sat on his desk swinging her feet, too nervous to sit still or stand like a normal person. "Not with me I mean with anybody ever."

He sat his pen down, she now had his full attention. "You're the only person I ever thought about marrying." He replied openly, his hand sliding up her thigh. When he reached her belly his fingers twisted in the softness of her shirt causing her to stir and swat his hand away with a smile. 

Now he was standing before her, between her legs, caging her in with his arms. Reminiscent of their first kiss. "And maybe even some day," he breathed into her neck, planting a wet kiss there once she leaned into him. "You can take that stupid IUD out and let me put a baby in you."

Her eyes fell closed, thinking about what it'd be like to do that. She pulled back cradling his head between her hands, stars brightening her eyes.

"Let’s focus on raising this baby first before we think about any others. Imagine how fucked up it would be." She tilted her had slightly in an attempt to be snarky or maybe sarcastic, anything to alleviate the seriousness of the moment.

"Who says we can't do both?" He replied half joking half hopeful. There goes his hands again, warming her sensitive belly. "We can try before the meeting starts." He mouthed at her neck and gripped her waist, now determined to make his dreams a reality.

She chuckled "Carmen." She gently nudged him back. "Do you know what you're saying? Do you know my dad would kill you- me- no US if we got pregnant?"

"Sydney, you know you're an adult right?" He shot her a teasing grin. "Also, I'm not saying right now or any time soon. I was joking." He placated. But they both knew he wasn't really joking all that much. "It's nice to know you're open to that sorta thing."

Syd nodded still trying to calm herself down. "I think you'd make a great dad." She replied earnestly.

She admired the pink that spread across his cheeks.

Richie knocked on the door before walking in, not waiting for a response.

"Yo, cousin when you and the wife are done with your meeting the actual team meeting has started out front."

"Shut the fuck up Richie!" He replied, no real heat behind his words. "And who started the meeting?"

"Who else?" He glanced around the room with a scoff "I did, when you two fly off to la la land I pick up the slack."

"What do you teach them? The quickest way to fuck up lunch?" Sydney fired back.

"Hey that was once!" He shouted behind him, already making his way back to the meeting.

Syd followed behind him but Carmy's hand stopped her. She spun around and he pulled her against him, kissing her breathless. He rested his forehead against hers.

"You'd really marry a fuck up like me?" He glanced behind her making sure Richie was gone.

"Carmy." She sighed leaning forward and pecking him once. "What did your therapist say about self-talk?"

"Right" He nodded. "Sorry, I'm still learning."

"Don't apologize." She kissed him again, lingering longer than before. "I wouldn't want to spend my life with anybody else."

"See! I told you they're back here making out" Richie's voice drifted through the kitchen catching their attention. The rest of the staff followed behind laughing amongst themselves.

"Chefs, are you going to show them tonight's specials or do I have to?"

my sydcarmy fic recommendations!

moon river by dischelvedcurls --- super dialogue heavy and true to the characters. love it so much!

it's a lot to ask of me (to believe in you) by adogwithabirdatyour_door -- this one...omg established (kinda) sydcarmy. carmy and sydney get into a fight and carmy gets sick and sydney takes care of him in the midst of the fight. definitely one of my faves.

begin again by yxurstruly -- sydney and carmy through someone else's eyes. i've reread this sooooo many times and it never gets old.

pull you right home by onelargecoffeepls -- our favorite communication stunted chefs trying to figure out what they are to each other. 7k words!!

still don't know what love means by seh28 -- angst fest. i love angsty carmy so much. he also says "sugar thinks i'm in love w you." must i say anything else?

nobody ever got my soul right like she could by seh28 -- for one the title alone makes my fucking chest ache. ughhhhh. mutual pining and bed sharing. carmy is so down bad it's ridiculous. another one of my favorites!

cleopatra, mona lisa, sydney adamu and the constant by peachybunnybabie -- soft and sweet sydcarmy. if you love fluff these are the two fics for you!

slithered from eden by sadistic pussy -- smuuuuuut and pining

gotta get up to get down by somethingdifferent -- the theories about carmy eating pussy for a living are brought to life in this fic. carmy is an eater.

hands full of plates by thesuncameout -- 100k words!!!!!!!!! i love long fics so much. super slow burn with so much pining and some pain. ugh. so good.

intimates conquering intimacy by sashafiercer -- 38k words! like i said i love long fics. mutual teasing with mutual pining.

the wild, wild berry by blissymbolics -- THIS STORY. this fucking story knocked the wind out of me for sure. super duper angsty. a MIND fuck. this fic is funny but definitely devastating at the same time. a lot of trigger warnings so be aware before you read.

Y’ALL SHE IS SO FINE, I CANNOT 😍

If they ever make talking about your spouse a crime this man is finished.

Can you please list below all your sydcarmy social media AU’s? I was looking for them but my app crashed and i cannot scroll past much. Thanks tho

Hi! thanks for asking and yes absolutely, here you go:

IG PART ONE

IG PART TWO

IG PART THREE

IG PART FOUR

IG PART FIVE

IG PART SIX

IG PART SEVEN

IG PART EIGHT

IG PART NINE

IG PART TEN

IG PART ELEVEN

IG PART TWELVE

IG PART THIRTEEN

TWITTER PART ONE

CARMY HUMANS OF NEW YORK

SydCarmy Ao3 Recs

note: this is going to be a super long post, you're welcome. (you can find more through my Ao3 profile (berzattohugs) also i don't know some tumblr usernames, but if you do please let me know so i can tag them! happy reading :)

legend: ongoing | completed | multiple works

get ready for a gapers' delay if you're heading down Sheridan Road, folks! (Find an alternate route if you can) by anxiety_croissant (@anxietycroissant) and turbulenthandholding (@turbulenthandholding)

“Carmy, sorry but… this is the first day off we’ve both had in weeks, and I got Lisa to trade shifts with me so I could spend time with you. I never see you anymore,” Claire complained, sighing softly. “I know The Bear is important to you, but like, we’re important, too. Right?”

sydcarmy through claire's perspective

the million little things by peachybunnybabie (@ethxocore)

favourites: like kasama (marriage of convenience au), the constant (six things carmy loves about his girlfriend), the support (six things sydney loves about her boyfriend, our thing (sydney and carmy celebrate christmas together)

avenues all lined with trees by oysterknife (@purposechef)

“you're a lifesaver,” the mother-of-the-bride gushes. “I didn't want to go with just anyone. The groom is a bit of a foodie, so I wanted a caterer who could impress.” Syd is about to call it quits for good on Sheridan Road. But then she gets a last-minute request to cater a wedding.

yes, chef by shareece (@bootlegramdomneess)

favourites: food is a universal language (Carmy and Sydney are two peas in a pod.) you are what you eat (Some time after the grand opening. Life is lifing. Carmy is in therapy. Sydney is being a supportive partner. Richie is going to Italy and really it's all about making connections.)

rules for fake dating an italian by poorlittlegreenie (@poorlittlegreenie13)

wanted: Female, aged 20-30, to be my date for Christmas eve dinner with my Italian family. Must be willing to eat my mom’s cooking. No physical intimacy required. No strings attached—I will drive you home after. 4pm-10pm, 12/24. Salary negotiable. Call Carmen: (773) 555-0901.

a new take on faith by linascribbles (@laviejaguardia)

the fridge guy’s name was Terry. They got the lock replaced a few weeks ago. There are no more torn tapes on the containers. The pans are on the right side. They hired a new line cook that doesn’t do meth. Nat’s belly is getting bigger by the second. Carmy hasn’t mentioned Claire since friends and family. Syd and Carmy haven’t really talked to each other in weeks.

if i didn’t love you, it would be fine (I know that’s a lie) by melodicchaos (@pacinglikeghosts)

when placed in a series of events based in misunderstanding, carmy and sydney decide to start fake dating. however, when real feelings get mixed with a relationship formed on carefully crafted lies, they realize they may have bit off more than they can chew.

copenhagen (let me go home) by turbulenthandholding (@turbulenthandholding)

6 months after The Bear opens, Carmy goes to Copenhagen for a short guest stint at Noma before it closes and realizes some things about his life back in Chicago.

scraping together by mila_milax (@milamilamilax)

is it fucked up to ask out the caterer at your brother’s funeral? Probably. But today is already pretty fucked up, and he’s done it now.

a need to amuse and enjoy by sashafiercer (@sashafiercest)

Sydney and Carmy learn how to offer each other amusement and enjoyment that will last the rest of their lives.

there we two, content by puzzlepuppy (@sydneys-adamu)

carmy, sydney and the adventures of cat parenting.

do me a favor? by onlytheredumbrella

sometimes we bypass the red flags and say, "Why shouldn't I make a baby with my best friend slash business partner?"

small plates by novelsandnoodles

favourites: as you wish (Richie and Natalie notice that Carmy loves saying no. Except when it comes to Sydney.), you put me on (Carmy lends Sydney his sweater. It’s far more distracting than either planned.), I don’t wanna look at anything else (a soft morning with Sydney and Carmy leads to a life altering question.), forgotten lunches and forgotten kisses (Sydney left home this morning without her lunch or her goodbye kiss. Carmy has come to give her both.)

soul meets body by turbulenthandholding (@turbulentandholding)

Emmanuel is unable to make himself say the words to his daughter: you, somewhere, have a soulmate, and the permanent marks of their life will be written across your skin for all of yours, just as your life is being written on theirs. No, I don't know who or how to find them. No, I don't know why. It's like magic, baby, in this sad and awful world of ours where magic does not exist and bad things happen all of the time.

the mark of a lover is patience through time by 924inlegend

five times Carmy and Sydney are mistaken for a couple and the one time it isn't a mistake anymore.

in another world it’s still you by puzzlepuppy (@sydneys-adamu)

favourites: the singing of a body (soulmate au), this heart with all its changing hues (rewind in time, sydney and carmen meet at CIA. it's not an instant friendship.), wind and water; cloud and fire (soulmate au)

my stomach's all in knots by sunflowerayo

Claire isn’t dumb. She wouldn’t have gotten anywhere in life if she was. Surviving in East Chicago, becoming a trauma nurse, all of it. So Claire knows she isn’t imagining the tension between her boyfriend and his business partner.

forever by noangeleitherr (@noangeleither)

a story of Sydney and Carmy's relationship and building love and life around grief.

take care by oysterknife (@purposechef)

Ingredients: - 1 culinary school dropout - 1 recently fired CDC - 48 hours in New York City

Steps: 1. Have a panic attack; drop out of culinary school. 2. Accidentally become the head food critic of the New York Times. 3. Write a review that gets the CDC of Eleven Madison Park fired. 4. Let sit until you have an emotionally unwieldy mess.

commute by somberiety

“i love a matcha. I always try to make one at home with the-” she makes a whisking movement with her fingers, sweeping in her imaginary mug. He mirrors the motion softly at the back of her neck, curtains of black and blonde sway by his fingers. He feels Sydney trailing into his touch and seeks more. He’s so fucking needy in the middle of this packed running metal tube.

inspired by that video from the baseball game

housed by your warmth by amiera (@amieraisposting)

favourites: it's all for you, everything i do (Syd and Carmy's journey navigating pregnancy.), bubbles (Carmy and his daughter stumble upon a kitten during a rainy day.)

don't be alarmed if i fall head over feet by romancier

love is blind au

pot & kettle, hand in glove by shroooms

five times claire has a hunch, and one time her hunches are confirmed

stay with me wherever you go by puzzlepuppy (@sydneys-adamu)

carmen (emotionally balanced) and sydney (also emotionally balanced) are well equipped for long distance and handle it very very well and very very normally. not.

taking the long way home by ogigia

sydney trying to be a normal adjusted adult who doesn't have feelings for her business partner technically boss coworker maybe best friend definitely the best kisser she has ever encountered.

child with a child pretending by emilybrontay (@emilybrontay)

Before she meets Carmy, Sydney has a baby.

THE BEAR AND THE BEE HIVE

summary: in which carmy falls for the sweet café owner that supplies him with endless americanos

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

word count: 14.4k

warning: it's a little bit of a slow burn. sorry. i'm a sucker for it and i feel like carmy is a slow burn kinda guy. 18 +, cursing, smut, p in v, oral (m. receiving), fingering, they use protection guys! i deserve a pat in the back. nothing too wild. oh, and very brief mention of suicide.

a/n: i started writing this way back in october and then it was nearly done and i abandoned it. well i finally got around to completing it tonight!

this is my first time ever writing for carmy and i tried my best writing this. i love carmy and the show but i didn’t expect it to be hard to write him as a character. i wanted to get him right so i took my time with it and didn’t rush it. hopefully you guys like my carmy. enjoy!

i think i've had this stored in my drafts for like 4 months and it's time for me to set it free.

The cigarettes were not enough anymore. No matter how many smoke breaks Carmy took, he still felt the edge on his shoulders. A fear laced with anxiety that overtook him.

After deciding that blowing through yet another wall in his restaurant was the way to go, Carmy took a break. He needed it before he used the sledgehammer to destroy the restaurant in its entirety, along with his dream.

He remembers a coffee shop only a block away from The Bear and thinks he could use a coffee right about now. Maybe the mixture of caffeine and nicotine will be able to relax his shoulders, if only for an hour.

As soon as he opens the door, the smell of ground coffee beans greets him. He looks around, taking in the cozy ambiance the decorative wood brings to the place and the splashes of warm yellow that lighten it up.

Then he sees you, and his focus shifts entirely. His eyes only see you.

"Hi, welcome to Bee Hive!" You chirp with a small smile.

Carmy freezes, forgetting why he's there in the first place. He slowly steps up to the register, where you patiently wait for him. It's just after the lunch rush, so you're in no hurry.

He finds he's acting like a teenager who has just seen a pretty girl. Only he's not a teenager, and you're more than a pretty girl.

"What can I get for you today?" You ask, not noticing the effect you've had on him. You take a sharpie out of your yellow apron, preparing to scribble down his order in a cup.

Carmy has perfected the empty on the outside but screaming on the inside face. Strangers don't tend to know he's almost always losing his shit.

"I-I don't…sorry," Carmy looks at you briefly before diverting his eyes. He apologizes in a flurry, looking for an excuse for his weird behavior, "Uh, it's my first time here. What do you recommend?"

"It's not a problem," you say softly as if to calm him, "I'm a simple girl. I love the latte, but if you're looking for something stronger, the americano is one of the favorites."

Carmy nods as you ramble about the drinks, where the coffee beans come from, and the different notes of each blend. He hangs onto every word that slips from your lips. The static in his brain clearing up for the first time in hours.

It ends too soon as you realize you're talking too much and probably overwhelmed him. You sheepishly smile at him and trail off, but he continues to stare, waiting for you to continue.

"I'll take the Americano," Carmy nods, giving you a tight-lipped smile. Although he had been hanging to every one of your words, he was too focused on the shape of your lips and the sweet tone of your voice.

"Good choice," you nod, grabbing a cup from the tray beside you, "What's your name?"

Carmy looks up, slightly alarmed, as if you've asked for his social security number. "What?" He thinks you'll be forward and ask for his number next, seemingly forgetting how coffee orders work.

"Your name? For the order?" You explain, trying to ease his worries. He's odd, but in an endearing way. You believe this is his first time here because you're confident you would've remembered him.

"Fuck, right, yeah," he nervously says, pinching the bridge of his nose, "My name's Carmen."

"Your Americano will be right out, Carmen," you tell him, capping your sharpie back up.

Carmy quickly pays and stands to the side to wait for his order. He forces himself to not look at you or in your direction as you take other customers' orders. He just knows he's made a fool of himself already. Not that it matters. Why would it matter? He's there for the coffee. Nothing else, no one else.

As he walks out of Bee Hive, he sips his coffee. His shoulders instantly drop, and his fear-induced anxiety starts to dissipate for the moment. He's unsure if the effect is because of the caffeine or the thoughts of your pretty smile.

Visiting your coffee shop becomes routine for Carmy. Whenever things at The Bear become crazy -or he starts to lose his fuckin' mind- he makes his way to Bee Hive with a cigarette hanging from his lips.

For twenty minutes, he's free of Richie's constant hounding, Sugar's struggles with the permits and scheduling, and Sydney's disappointment because the menu is still extremely underway.

Each time he's stopped by, you've been there to greet him, and each time, you've left a little heart by Carmen's name, which makes his heart race in a peculiar way. His hands would touch his chest to check if it was heartburn, but it didn't feel like that. It's not anxiety either cause he knows pretty well how that feels.

All he knows is he hasn't done anything to deserve such a gesture. He's convinced himself you draw little hearts for everyone because he's not special.

One Thursday afternoon, Carmy realizes he doesn't know your name. He looks for a name tag, but you're not wearing one on your yellow apron. He should know your name if you insist on making small talk despite his short answers.

He can't help it. He gets too in his head to answer like a normal person, so his answers come out choppy and dry.

"Alright, Carmen, your order will be right out," you say, handing his cup to one of the baristas. You always hold out and ask him what he wants to order. He has the right to change his mind anytime, but for now, he's stuck with the americano, which he drowns in sugar.

As curiosity eats at him, he gathers the courage to ask. "Thanks. Hey, uh, I've-I’ve never gotten your name…” Carmy says, cursing at himself for not formulating the question correctly. His hand comes up to grip his hair instinctually.

Your smile widens when he asks your name. The silly crush you've developed for your customer fluttering to life. It's just a crush over a stranger, nothing to write home about.

You tell him your name but follow it with "-call me Honey. Everyone knows me by that name. I'm sure if you ask my friends about me with my real name, you'll throw them for a loop."

You're rambling, hoping he doesn't think calling you by your nickname is weird. Then again, how can he judge when he has a sister people call 'Sugar' and he and his siblings also don the nickname 'Bear.'

"Honey." Carmy repeats your nickname, smiling as he finds it fitting. "In that case, call me Carmy."

"Nice to properly meet you, Carmy," you say, grinning.

Like all the days before, Carmy steps aside and waits for his coffee. He doesn't let himself continue the conversation or ask more about you even if it’s everything he wants to do.

It's rare for Carmy to be in a good mood, and whenever it happens, it doesn't tend to last. His goal of opening a restaurant in 12 weeks makes it impossible for him to relax and enjoy the ride. To prolong this unusual feeling, Carmy stops by Bee Hive on his way to The Bear.

"Have you made your boss angry, Honey?" He asks as he pulls out his wallet to pay. He ordered the americano as he always does.

"No…why do you ask?" You ask, tilting your head in confusion.

"Uh, 'cause you-you're always here. Do you not take days off? Not that I'm complaining. I-I like seeing you here." Carmy's words get quieter as he speaks, red creeping up his neck. So much for trying to make a joke.

You look around the room and tell him, "Imma let you in on a little secret."

Carmy follows your hand, waving him to get closer. The smell of cigarettes invades your senses as you get close to him. You'd never admit that the mix of his cigarettes and your coffee is addicting. As both lean over the counter, you whisper, "I'm the boss. I can't run away even if I wanted to."

"You own the coffee shop," Carmy pans in shock.

Carmy is more than surprised at your words. Especially now that he knows how expensive it is to open a business. You can't be a day over 25 and own a successful coffee place. There is hope, after all.

"I do," you nod, standing straight once more.

A couple of years ago, you had inherited a hefty amount of money from an estranged aunt. Fresh out of college and with no real plan, you thought it would be a good moment to follow your dream and open the cozy café.

"How do you do it?" Carmy asks, amazed at the girl smiling at him. "I don't know if you know, but, um, I-I'm opening the restaurant around the block. Used to be The Beef?" He finishes grimly as he points to his side of the block.

"Oh, yeah. The guys who worked there helped me move some equipment when I first opened two years ago," you reveal, "Tell you what, whenever you have a break, come around. I'll give you a free americano and tell you all about it. Neighbor to neighbor."

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Carmy agrees. "I'll take you up on that."

Weeks go by, and Carmy seemingly forgets about Bee Hive and your pending conversation. You try not to overthink about his absence or how you might've scared him away. He's probably just busy remodeling his restaurant. You know better than anyone how much time that takes.

Still, his presence has become part of your routine, and you can't help but look at the door each time the bell rings. You expect to see him walking up to the counter, the remnants of cigarette smoke coming out his nose as he breathes.

You're pretty close to your assumption because Carmy has been dealing with the fire suppression test. They didn't fail the test once but twice, and if they didn't pass it on the third try, their plan to open the restaurant in 12 weeks goes out the window. Fak has tried everything, and nothing works.

He'd sent Richie once on a coffee run, but the fuckin' idiot went to the nearest Starbucks. Carmy had been looking forward to tasting your coffee and seeing his name in the cup with the little heart because he's 100% sure he's the only Carmen you know. It's not a common name in these parts of town.

One very early morning, he's walking to work, and as he passes Bee Hive, he sees you inside, wiping tables down before you open at 6:30.

Impulsively, he knocks on the glass, not giving himself the time to overthink things. You turn to look at the window and see him standing outside, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his familiar plaid jacket to protect himself from the chilly March air.

"Hey stranger," you greet him, opening the door and inviting him in.

"Hi," he breathes out, staring at you, "you're here early," he tries to casually mention.

You roll your eyes dramatically and say, "It's a downside of the job. Did you know people want coffee at the crack of dawn?"

You try acting as nonchalant as possible. It's not like you missed seeing one of your favorite customers, his beautiful blue eyes, or the way he rocks a simple white t-shirt.

"I had no idea," Carmy smiles, bringing his tattooed hand up to his lips, "I, uh, usually drink mine at night." That much is true. On those sleepless nights when insomnia takes over him, the best remedy is coffee.

"Would you make an exception and join me for a morning coffee at the crack ass of dawn?" Anxiously, you play with the rings on your fingers. It feels like you're asking the guy on a date when it's just a friendly coffee.

"As long as you have some business advice to spare?" Carmy responds shakily. He briefly looks down the street to glimpse at his restaurant. It's too early for anyone to be there yet.

"Deal."

Throwing the towel over your shoulder, you make your way behind the counter. Carmy attempts to make small talk with you as you prepare both drinks.

This is the first time he's watching you in action since you tend to stick to the cash register when he's around. It's not a coincidence. After the first time he came to Bee Hive, you wanted to see more of him, so you stationed yourself at the register where you'd be sure to see him, and he'd see you.

"Here you go." You place his coffee mug on the table along with yours before disappearing momentarily and returning with an orange soufflé coffee cake. You're pulling all the stops for Carmy to leave a good impression.

Carmy thanks you and sips his coffee, "Wow, this is fire!" He expected to taste an americano, but what you prepared was entirely different. He can make out hints of hazelnut and caramel in the coffee.

"Thanks. I took the liberty of changing your order. You can always come back to the americano, though…" you shrug shyly, looking at him over the rim of your mug.

"I-I appreciate it. Thanks." Carmy throws you a nervous grin. He gestures with his tattooed hand to dig into the cake you brought out. He shouldn't be the only one eating.

You and Carmy share the cake as you talk about yourselves and the crazy businesses you own. Somehow, talking to you comes easy to him. He's still nervous and scared to fuck things up, but the warm coffee and your even warmer smile ease him into it.

"How do you do it? This place is always packed, and you seem like you run a tight ship," Carmy wonders, playing with the fork. The cake is long gone, although the notes of orange remain on his tongue. Would you taste the same?

"It wasn't without mistakes. I had to learn a lot from my fuck ups and listen to my team because although I'm the owner, they are the ones doing most of the work. Whenever there's a flaw, they are the first to know," you speak softly, afraid of ruining the calm ambiance you've set up, twirling the small amount of coffee left in your mug.

It's your favorite part of morning coffee. When you have just the smallest bit of coffee left, and you know you'll never drink it because it's cold, but it gives you an excuse to remain where you are.

"So, all I gotta do is listen?" It's funny you say that because Carmy listens, but his friend's voices get muddled somewhere along the way. As much as he tries to focus on them, they merge together and form a cacophony in his head.

"A lot of listening and a lot of experimentation. I've been open for two years, and it's only been in the last six months that I can confidently tell you we found our groove," you admit with a grimace.

Bee Hive is your baby, but bringing it to life was everything but easy. You messed up so many times, costing you so much money. You didn't know shit about owning a business or building one from the ground up. Doing research and putting your pride aside to ask for help got you through it.

"I've only been doing this for, like, less than a fuckin' year, and I already want to pull my hair out," Carmy admits with a pitiful laugh.

"I'm sorry I can't tell you it gets better soon," you say apologetically, reaching for his hand that rests on the table.

Carmy freezes, glancing at your hand on top of his. He hasn't got a clue what to fucking do with the display of affection. Was it a display of affection? He doesn't fucking know. "It's, uh, it's, uh, it's alright. As-as long as you give me coffee, I think I can make it through," Carmen furrows his eyebrows as he stutters through the sentence.

"I can't wait to see what the award-winning chef does," you say, bringing your hand back to your lap, none the wiser to Carmy's internal struggle.

He should've done something to keep your hand on his. Place his other hand on yours or fucking turn his hand around to grasp it. He liked feeling your warm skin on his. It hasn't been a minute since you pulled away, and he's craving it already. It's ridiculous. Is he really that touch-starved that he's seeking affection from a near stranger?

He coughs and darts his eyes between the wooden table top and you, "Fuck. You-you know about that?"

"I might've done some research after finding out you're opening the restaurant. I got curious. I'm sorry." Apologizing is your default thing to do. Messing things up is your area of expertise. You really didn't think he'd mind you mentioning it.

"No, no, no, uh, you don't have to apologize. You just caught me off guard," Carmy shakes his head, reassuring both of you.

"Okay, good," you lightly smile at him, averting your eyes when your gazes meet.

If there's a time for you to make a move, it's now. Taking a shaky breath, you speak up, "I was wondering if you'd ever like to-."

A loud knock on the glass door interrupts you. You and Carmy jump and look towards the source of the noise. It's one of your regular clients, waving at you to open up. Looking at your watch, you see it's 6:30 already.

"Shit. I'm-I'm sorry I took so much of your time," Carmy apologizes, picking up his mug and the plate to put away.

You grab his wrist to make him stop in his tracks, "Relax. I enjoyed talking to you. Maybe we can do it again soon?"

Carmy nods wide-eyed. He likes the idea just as much as you do. You take away the mug and plate with a soft 'okay.' He then follows you to the door as you unlock it and turn the sign to 'open.'

"I, um, gotta go work on the menu. I'll probably be back later for another coffee?" Carmen asks you as if he's asking for permission, which you find adorable.

"I'll be behind the register," you say, watching him walk away. He turns his head back for a moment, and you catch the smile gracing his lips as yours turns to mimic him.

"Oh, he's cute," your customer, an older lady, says, watching him go along with you. "It's about time you got a boyfriend."

"Mrs. O'Hara, here for your tea?" You ask her, ignoring the comment about your love life. That woman will set you up with anyone. She does love her tea, though, and expects you to provide it on time.

It's slow, but Carmen warms up to you. Instead of grabbing his coffee to go, he now drinks it at the café, coincidentally around the same time you take your break.

He's been hesitantly opening up. It's not like he's telling you about how fucked up his family is or how his brother committed suicide. More often, it's about the restaurant and his work as a chef, the struggles of getting every permit they need on a tight schedule since they are supposed to open in about four weeks now, or the occasional childhood memory. It's everything you need to know at this stage.

You love listening to Carmy talk, even if you have to coax it out of him sometimes. He's passionate about the restaurant despite all the stress that comes from it, and he adores the people he works with. He's shy but not in a dorky way because he's actually fascinating. Before meeting him, you never knew that collecting denim was a thing.

The smell of cigarettes that clings to him is also tightly laced with his character. When you step outside to get some sun and the scent of someone smoking hits you, your heart instantly speeds up, hoping it's him coming for his daily americano, or to come swoop you away into a sunset.

"-I fell on my ass in the middle of the street. I was freaking out, thinking I was gonna get run over by a car," you exclaim as you tell Carmy about the crazy Christmas you spent in New York last year.

"It's New York. You probably would have been run over," Carmy chuckles along with you. "There was this one time I was running late and-" His phone vibrating interrupts him.

"Sorry, it's just the fridge guy," he tells you with a furrow of his eyebrows. You notice he does that a lot when he's thinking deeply. Carmy silences it and looks back over to you.

"You should pick that up. A busted fridge is the last thing you need. Trust me. Been there, done that." You encourage him to take the call. The restaurant is more important than your story about how you bruised your coccyx in New York.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Carm! Call him back before you forget," you insist, grabbing his empty cup to trash it. You don't give him any other option, leaving him there to help your employees with a faulty machine.

He watches you closely, closer than ever before. He allows himself to watch how you frown at the machine and how your ringed fingers fumble with the knobs. His eyes keep trailing down involuntarily, and they take in how nicely your jeans hug your ass.

He goes into a spiral into these old pair of Levi jeans popular in the 90s and how they would fit nicely with the shape of your hips and legs. Carmy continues on the tangent, imagining himself peeling them off your body.

The phone vibrating in his hand snaps him out of it. Clearing his throat, he picks up the phone and walks outside. He waves at you through the window as he makes his way back to The Bear. Your frustration at the machine vanishes momentarily as you wave back, except the machine splatters, forcing you to redirect your attention. When you look outside again, he's gone.

Stakes are high at The Bear. There's less than four weeks until Friends and Family, and there is much to do. Marcus has returned from Copenhagen and is working on the desserts. Tina is doing her job as the new sous chef. Fak and Sweeps are helping out wherever they can. And Richie is being Richie, trying to be open but resisting change.

"I need coffee or a pop. Anything with caffeine," Sydney says, throwing her head back. She and Carmen have been working on the chaos menu for hours, and she keeps messing up. Carmy insists that it's okay that they'll adjust and get it right soon, but she's beginning to lose hope.

"Me too. I'd kill for an espresso," Natalie agrees, softly rubbing her hand over her growing bump.

"I thought you couldn't have caffeine cause of the baby," Richie mentions, remembering Tiff's time while pregnant.

"I don't need you to fuckin' tell me what I can or can't eat, Richie," Natalie yells, glaring at him. Although he's right, the doctor told her to limit her caffeine intake. Hard to do when she's up all night thinking about everything she needs to do for The Bear.

"Shit. I'm sorry for fucking caring," Richie screams back, lifting his hands up in defense.

"I can go to the coffee place down the block. Get everyone something," Carmy pipes up, looking forward to seeing you today.

Natalie is quick to shoot that idea down, "You can't. The fridge guy is coming in 20 minutes."

"Fuck, that's right," Carmy groans, digging his head in his hands. His fingers rake through his hair, messing up his curls. He wanted to see you and talk to you, even if it was for five short minutes.

"I'll go," Sydney sighs. She needs to leave the kitchen for more than five minutes, or she'll go crazy, "Just tell me what you guys want to order."

Natalie grumbles about getting decaf, Richie orders a plain black coffee, and Carmy asks for his americano. As Sydney leaves to ask Marcus, Carmy yells after her, "Please, go to Bee Hive. If you get Starbucks, I'm gonna fucking lose it."

Richie and Natalie exchange a look. Richie because he's confused, and Natalie because she knows something is happening with Carmy. He's never been picky over coffee. In fact, they have an old coffee machine in the office that now goes unused because he's always at that coffee shop.

"Sorry, I didn't get the fuckin' memo. Since when is Starbucks bad?" Richie frowns, looking to get a rise out of Carmy.

"I don't think it's about the coffee, cousin," Natalie responds, directing her gaze towards her brother, who is hunched over the counters, chopping vegetables.

"If it's not about the coffee, what is it about?" Richie questions, crossing his arms.

"Shut the fuck up, Sugar," Carmy grumbles, looking at his sister with a glare. He already knows where she's going. She tried to bring it up a couple of days ago after she walked by the coffee shop and saw him being friendly with you.

Natalie smiles and responds, "Carmy has a crush on the barista."

"That's ridiculous. I don't have a crush on her." Carmy shakes his head, avoiding Richie and Natalie's eyes on him. They always do this. They gang up on him if he shows even the slightest interest in a girl. They think they can help, but all they do is embarrass him.

"Come on, Bear. Why else would you go almost every day to get coffee?" Natalie asks, giving him a look.

"Because it's good fuckin' coffee. Jesus, it's not that deep." Carmy grabs the veggies he chopped and drops them into a container to use later.

"It's okay to admit you like a pretty girl, cousin! I'm excited for you! Makes you human and not a lonely hermit," Richie jokes, pushing on Carmy's buttons. "When was the last time you got laid?"

"I swear to God, Richie. Shut the fuck up," Carmy points at him angrily.

"No, I should go with Sydney and see who this girl is!" Richie says, walking out of the half-built kitchen.

Carmy follows him instantly, "You're not going fuckin' anywhere, fuckin' jagoff." He's turning red from anger, seeing Richie with his mocking smile. Natalie follows behind them, amused at the situation. It reminds her of the banters they used to get in with Mickey.

"Admit that you like her," Richie shrugs, giving him a choice.

"No, I won't," Carmy refuses. "You always do this shit."

"Then, I'm going," Richie nods, stepping towards the door.

"Fuck! Shit, alright. I like her, okay? Don't fucking go anywhere," Carmy yells, rubbing a hand on his face out of frustration. It's like he's not allowed to keep anything good to himself.

"Was that so hard?" Richie grins, clapping a hand on Carmy's shoulder.

"Don't fuckin' touch me," Carmy grumbles, walking back to the kitchen. Natalie follows him with a smile, shaking her head at Richie.

Carmy sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. He has yet to admit that he likes you more than he should. He's been avoiding it, afraid of what it might lead to, or rather, what it might not.

He couldn't let Richie go see you. He has a big fuckin' mouth and will tell you Carmy has a crush on you whether it's true or not. Just like that, he feels the sour taste in his mouth, his heartburn making an appearance. Carmy should go look for his pepto before it gets worse.

Unaware of the argument back at The Bear, Sydney walks to Bee Hive. She's walked past many times but has yet to have the time to stop and try it out.

As she waits in line, she reads over the drinks menu. It's clear that it's been carefully curated. Starbucks has nothing on this menu. She can see why Carmy would prefer to come here instead.

When it's her turn to order, Sydney takes out her phone to recite everyone's drink order. She also points to a few pastries, thinking Marcus would like to try some of them and get inspiration. That and she knows Natalie will enjoy them as well.

You're sitting at a table close to the pickup counter. You often find yourself all over the store, ensuring everything goes smoothly. Sometimes, you stop to talk to your regulars and see how they're doing.

You notice Sydney struggling with all the cups she has to carry. It's proving difficult despite the to-go trays your barista put them in. Deciding to approach her, you ask, "Do you need help?"

"Oh, no. I'm fine, thanks," Sydney responds with a nervous smile. She's trying hard to grab everything, including the box with the pastries.

You continue watching her struggle because you know she needs help. You let her try and figure it out for one more minute before stepping in again when she almost drops two of the drinks, "Need some help now?"

"Yeah," Sydney sighs, "I guess I can leave one of the trays here, go to the restaurant, and come back for the rest," she speaks mostly to herself.

"Are you going far?"

"No, just the restaurant down the block," Sydney responds with a sigh, scratching her eyebrow as she tries to figure out the logistics of carrying the drinks. She could get a box to put everything in.

You perk up at her response. The only restaurant down the block is Carmen's. Could she work there? "Carmy's restaurant?"

"You know Carmy?" Sydney asks, tilting her head. Maybe Nat was right. Carmy spends his time here because of the woman in front of her.

"He comes here often. Anyway, I can go with you to help you out. It's not far, and I'd feel bad if your drinks got cold." You offer to help her out because you're a nice person. Not because you want a chance to see the curly-haired man you are developing feelings for.

"You really don't have to…"

"It's really not a problem," you press, grabbing one of the to-go trays and motioning for her to lead the way.

Sydney sighs in defeat and nods, "Thanks. I'm Sydney, by the way."

"I'm Honey," you smile, following her outside.

You chat all the way to the restaurant with Sydney. She reminds you of Carmy in some ways, so you can see why they are friends. Before arriving at the restaurant, Sydney apologizes in advance for any sort of mess there might be, including yelling.

As you near the building under renovation, your palms start to sweat. Maybe you shouldn't have come. You're showing up unannounced, and he's probably too busy to talk to you anyway. You can slip in and out without him noticing. That's the goal now.

You open the door for Sydney, letting her go through first, and quietly follow her into the restaurant. There's no time to escape, as all eyes are instantly on you.

Richie is arguing with Fak when he sees you walk in. He narrows his eyes as Carmy looks in your direction from the kitchen. With just one glance to Carmy's face, he knows who you're supposed to be.

"Guess I didn't have to go anywhere. She came to me," Richie whispers, rushing out the door.

"Shut the fuck up. Where are you going? Don't embarrass me!" Carmy whispers out to Richie unsuccessfully.

"Oh, you'll do that all by yourself," Richie throws over his shoulder.

"Honey, hey, what-what're you doing here?" Carmy speaks, not giving Richie a chance to open his big mouth. He stands between you and Richie, blocking him for the time being.

"Sydney needed help with the drinks," you answer nervously, averting your eyes.

"Oh, thanks for that. You didn't have to," Carmy approaches you and takes the drinks from your hands. His fingers brush with yours momentarily, causing you both to blush.

"I did, or else you probably wouldn't have anything to drink," you whisper to him.

Sydney, Fak, and Richie all watch the interaction amusedly. Richie has a big teasing grin on his face as he makes a plan in his head.

"Hi, I'm Richie! Carmy's cousin," he introduces himself, shoving Carmy to the side and shaking your hand enthusiastically. "I gotta say Carmen right here is obsessed with your coffee. He's banned us from getting Starbucks."

Carmy curses under his breath as Richie does precisely what he tells him not to. He has the urge to throw the coffee at him and run away.

"Is that right?" You ask, amused, looking over at Carmy with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh yeah," Richie answers for him as Carmy tries to find the right words to say. "Cousin, why don't you give the nice lady a tour of the place?"

"It's not done yet. Could be dangerous," Carmy hopelessly says with a gulp.

"Nonsense! You'll take care of her!" Richie insists. He takes the coffee from Carmy's hands and pushes him in your direction. "Go give her a tour."

Richie, Sydney, and Fak all disappear to the office to stay out of the way and try to snoop simultaneously. Fak sends Carmy a not-so-discreet thumbs-up that makes you giggle.

He's internally screaming at his so-called friends but is glad to see you. It was all he wanted before Sydney left to get their drinks. It's strange having you here at The Bear, though. He's so used to seeing you in your own space back at Bee Hive.

Trying to make things better, you say, "Sorry you've been roped into this. You probably have better things to do. I can go-"

Carmy doesn't let you finish. "No, stay. I want to show you around."

"Let's see what you got then, Berzatto," you grin, following him to the kitchen.

Carmy takes his time showing you The Bear. He wants you to stay. He wants to spend time with you but doesn't really know how to say it. So he takes it slow, answers your questions about the restaurant, shows you the front and how everything will be laid out, and introduces you to the ones around, including the fridge guy working on the handle.

Sadly, you get a call from Bee Hive asking you to come back. Carmy walks you outside, dreading having to say goodbye.

"I'm really excited for The Bear to open. You have a great place and team," you tell Carmy.

"I really got lucky with them, huh?" He asks, playing with a dish towel.

"I gotta go. I'll see you later, Berzatto." You don't know where you got the guts to lean towards him and kiss his cheek.

Carmy stays still as his face heats up. You start walking away and throw him a smile over your shoulder. When you're a distance away, he touches the cheek you kissed. Back inside, Richie runs over to Sugar to tell her what he just witnessed.

It's late when Carmy leaves The Bear. As he walks to the train station, he has his hands stuffed in his jacket pocket. On his way, he sees a lone light turned on in your café. Crossing the street to check it out, he sees you're still there with glasses perched on your nose in front of the computer.

He tries the door, and to his luck, it's open. You look in his direction, startled, but relax once you see it's him.

"Nice glasses," Carmy teases, pulling out a chair to sit.

"Are you making fun of me?" You purse your lips, propping your chin on your palm.

"No, I…I think you look cute with them," Carmy admits. After a stern talk from Sugar and Richie, he's realized he should probably make a proper move on you because if what they say is true, you also have a crush on him.

"Thanks," you blush, the light from your screen making it obvious to Carmy, who can't stop the corners of his lips from turning up into a smile.

"Late night?"

"One of my baristas is moving out of state. I have to find someone new, preferably who has experience," you say with a sigh. Glancing at him, you add, "Are you perhaps interested in the position?"

"Poaching me from my own restaurant, nice. I'll let you know I'm an excellent worker," Carmy jokes, tapping his fingers on the table.

There's no doubt in your mind he's an excellent worker. He has to be if he's considered one of the best up-and-coming chefs. Or to work in one of the best restaurants in the world with three Michelin stars.

"I don't know. I'll need references," you speak as if not believing him.

Carmy smiles and softly chuckles, "Fair enough."

There's a moment of silence between the two of you that Carmy is quick to fill, "So, uh, have you had dinner yet by chance?" This is it.

You shake your head no and look at him with hopeful eyes.

"Wanna go grab pizza? I know a place," he asks, finding your gaze on him.

"Say no more," you say, closing your laptop and taking off your glasses. "I'm starving."

Carmy waits for you to lock Bee Hive and grab your things. Then, you both walk to the pizza place. To pass the time, you and Carmy talk about your days and anything that comes to mind. Nothing serious as you get to know each other.

Waiting in line to order the pizza, you tell him all about your nickname and how you were donned 'Honey' to everyone who knows you. In return, he tells you about his nickname 'Bear' and why his restaurant is named as such. For the first time, he dares mention Mickey.

"Best pizza in Chicago," Carmy says, taking a slice of the pie and placing it on your plate.

"I'll see about that," you murmur. You wait until he has a slice of his own and dig in simultaneously.

"It's good, but this is not the best pizza place in Chicago," you say after chewing the first bite, "I'm gonna get your chef license revoked."

"Are you? With what proof? Have you tried all the pizza places to know?"

"I don't have to because I've tried the best," you hum, taking another bite. The cheese stretches as you pull it away.

"Oh yeah? Which one?" Carmy questions you, taking a drink of his beer.

"Mine. The pizza I make is the best," you shrug modestly.

"Wait. You cook?" Carmy asks, giving you a look of surprise.

Cooking is a universal thing. Most people know how to cook up to a degree, yet only some are as confident in their skills as you are. You know you're definitely not up to Carmy's level, but if there is something you know how to do properly, it's pizza.

"Yeah! You're not the only good cook here, Berzatto," you sass back at him, dipping the pizza crust in the marinara sauce.

"Sorry for assuming," he raises his palms.

"You're forgiven," you chirp.

"When will I try this famous pizza of yours then?" Carmy wonders. An attempt to see if you'd like to see more of him.

"I promise I'll make it for you once you open The Bear. You're too stressed to fully enjoy it now," you respond. You were reaching out. Throwing hints that you want this to continue in the foreseeable future.

The conversation continues to flow with an empty pizza box in front of you. Customers come and go until it's only the two of you and a drunk customer picking up his pizza.

"Tell me about your tattoos. Were they an act of rebellion or something else?"

It's an excuse to touch his hands. You reach for them, turning them to see the black ink on his hands and fingers. You gently trace over them with the pads of your fingers. Over the hand that's stabbed, the letters S.O.U. on his knuckles and the forget-me-nots. The one you're dying to touch, though, is the one on his bicep; you'd give anything to feel the hard muscle underneath the rolled-up sleeves of his white t-shirt.

"Uh, my first tattoo is the 773. Got it when I left Chicago for the first time. After that, I sort of became addicted to them. I found they helped my anxiety when it was becoming too much. The pain distracted me and made me feel stronger than I actually was," he says, letting you touch him. He finds that he likes it. Your touch is soft and warm. Comforting.

"So what you're trying to say is you're a masochist," you say, bouncing your eyebrows at him. Your touch goes further up his arm to turn it and look at the fish tattoo on his forearm.

"I guess so," Carmy responds with a breathy laugh, "Do you have any tattoos?"

"Maybe…" You shrug as the pads of your fingers trail back down to his palm until you pull them back towards you. Carmy instantly misses the feeling, opting to cross his arms to retain the warmth you left behind.

"It's bad, isn't it?" He says knowingly. Your reaction told him everything he needed to know.

"The worst," you grimace, shaking your head at the memory of you getting it.

"So, rebellion or something else?"

"Rebellion. For all the wrong reasons," you groan, burying your face in your hands, "Growing up, everyone saw me as a good girl because that's what I was. Breaking the rules terrified me. So, as a teenager, I didn't want to be seen as a goody two shoes, so the summer before I went to college, I decided that getting a tattoo would make me a badass."

"Did it work?"

"God, no. I only got the outline done 'cause it hurt like a bitch. Then I went crying to my parents, fully having a meltdown, apologizing for disappointing them," You scrunch your nose as you say the following words, "They laughed in my face, called me a wimp, and told me to suck it up."

Carmy fully laughs at your story. Head thrown back, eyes closing, "What did you get?"

"That's a secret, Berzatto," you purse your lips, avoiding responding. You just know he'll make fun of you for it.

Everyone who has seen your tattoo has made fun of you for it, yourself included. It's so silly and not badass. Carmy will have to wait to see your tattoo, and you hope this continues so he can see it up close.

"Really? That bad?" Carmy stares wide-eyed.

"It's terrible," you nod, leaning on the table. "We should probably get going before the waitress throws a fit."

Carmy looks over his shoulder to see the waitress glaring at them. It's five minutes till close, and they've made no move to go. He turns back to you and nods towards the door. Carmy helps you with your jacket and leaves a tip on the jar for the waitress. At that, she happily calls after them with a 'Good night!'

"Do you live far?" Carmy asks, seeing how dark it is now that most places have closed. There are too many lamp posts that aren't working. He'd feel better if he could walk you home or you called an Uber. Preferably the former.

"Only a couple of blocks away. Why?"

"It's late. Let me walk you home," Carmy says decidedly, not giving you much of a choice.

"Thanks," you respond with a small smile.

The pace you set is slow. You don't want your time with Carmy to end just yet. He's such an interesting and sweet guy. He's a little awkward, but it adds to his charm, and you can see he's trying.

Somewhere along the way, his hand brushes against yours briefly. Then, it happens again, and you decide to bite the bullet. You grasp his hand in yours.

"Is this okay?" You ask when he falls silent.

Carmy doesn't have a lot of experience with girls. He can't even remember the last time he held a girl's hand. All he knows is he doesn't remember ever feeling this good. "Yes, uh, this is okay."

Carmy walks you up to your front door when you reach your house. You unlock the door but stay outside face-to-face with Carmy.

"Thanks for the pizza," you say, fiddling with your fingers. You were about to make one more move for the night. Because as long as Carmy allows you, you'll keep pushing for more.

"Sorry, it wasn't the best," he retorts, rubbing his jaw with his hand. You notice he does that a lot when nervous.

"Your company made up for it," you reassure him, "g'night Carmy." You kiss his cheek goodbye, watching as his cheeks blush.

"Night," he whispers.

As you turn to leave, Carmy stops you by grabbing your wrist, "Wait-uh, can I? Uh-shit. Fuck it." For a second, Carmy shuts out the excessive thoughts in his head and does what he's been dying to do for weeks.

Carmy cups your jaw and kisses you. It's soft and slow. He gives you enough leeway to pull away if it's something you don't want, but you reciprocate eagerly. You've been waiting for this all night.

As confidence surges through his body, Carmy throws an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You wrap your arms around him, one of your hands resting on his neck, tangling on his curls. The tug of your fingers feels like heaven.

The kiss turns needy and desperate, your lips moving perfectly in sync. His tongue brushes over your lip; Carmy has been dying to test a theory. Are you as sweet as your name?

He's rewarded by a little noise in the back of your throat as he slips his tongue into your mouth. It's endearing, and he finds a way to make you do it again. With heads tilting to deepen the kiss, he concludes he was right. You're pure honey. Sweet and addicting.

When Carmy returns to his apartment, he gets the urge to create, to cook. He wants to bring your taste to life with his cooking. Something with honey.

"I was wondering if you'd want to come to the restaurant for Family and Friends."

You and Carmy are in your little office at Bee Hive. He stands between your legs as you sit on the desk. His lips are slightly red and swollen, and the hair at the nape of his neck is messier than usual.

"Hm, I could be persuaded," you pretend to think as you play with the golden chain around his neck, pulling him towards you.

"Yeah?" Carmy laughs, leaning to brush his lips against yours. When he feels you nod, he closes the small gap between the two of you.

His hands hold your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. He tastes like coffee, which is to be expected from the discarded cup beside you. It's funny how your relationship, if it could be called that, has moved all around Bee Hive from the register to the front and now to your office.

You're at a weird spot where you're not exactly friends because friends don't kiss, but you're not a couple either. It's a situationship for sure. You're content with what you have now, although you'd also love it if Carmy were to ask you to be more. You pin it on him being shy. He'll get around to it.

"What do you say?" Carmy questions as he kisses a trail from your cheek to your jaw.

"Consider me in," you giggle when he kisses a tickly spot.

Carmy brushes a strand of hair out of your face, remaining close to you. This is what he needs. After months of stress and anxiety of having to deal with The Beef, now The Bear, he needed you and your calming presence. Someone removed from the chaos, a safe haven.

He's quiet as his thoughts consume him, and you take the intimate position to fix his gold chain. Turning it so the clasp faces the back instead of the front. "I'm excited, Carmy," you say with a smile, brushing his cheek with your thumb.

"You can bring someone with you," Carmy offers nervously because he realizes he probably won't have the time to spend much time with you. "I-I don't think I'll be around much. I'm sorry. I'd understand if that makes you change your mind," Carmy drops his head as he braces himself for disappointment.

As the weeks pass, you learn more about Carmy and his insecurities. It doesn't deter you from wanting to be with him. Everyone has their issues. "Berzatto, stop. Look at me," you softly divert his attention, "I'd love to go and support you even if it's from the sidelines."

"You sure?" He asks once more.

If reassurance is what he needs, that's what you'll give. "Don't worry about me. This is your moment, Carmy. Enjoy it. I'll be around afterward."

"Thank you for understanding," Carmy responds, stealing one more kiss from you.

When he returns to The Bear, he helps Sydney prep the dishes they finally chose to serve. He notes how everything is laid out and anything they should fix before opening.

Richie struts into the kitchen with a suit on. Apparently, it's his thing now. Carmy figures staging at Chef Terry's restaurant had a good impact on him. All Carmy wanted was to show Richie he had what it takes. That he's not a fuck up.

"Glad to see things are going well with Honey," Richie thunders.

"What are you talking about?" Carmy says in a rush as he plates the lamb expertly.

"That thing on your neck," Richie says, motioning to his own neck. He has a smug look on his face.

"I don't have time for this, cousin," Carmy grumbles, wiping the plate where the sauce might've splattered.

Groaning, Richie grabs one of the new pans and holds it in front of Carmy. "I don't see anything," he frowns, looking at Richie for an explanation.

"Right here," Richie points towards the edge of his t-shirt around his neck.

Carmy pulls it back and finally spots what Richie has been referring to. There is a fading purple bruise on his skin, a hickey. You must've done it when he was back in your office. He'd been too busy touching you to notice.

Sydney, silently watching, pipes up, "No wonder he hasn't been as on edge lately." Carmy shoots her a glare, which causes her to shrug and laugh with a, "What? It's true."

"Ay, yo, Sugar, get in here!" Richie yells down the hall to the office.

"What is it?" Natalie barges in, afraid something went to shit.

Carmy ignores Richie as he babbles to Natalie what he found. His face is red, though, as Sydney nudges his side.

"That's enough about me. We have shit to do," Carmy shouts in his chef's voice.

Everyone in the kitchen, including Richie and Natalie, repeats, "Yes, chef!"

Walking out of the kitchen Richie, 'whispers' to Natalie, "I've always wondered if he likes to be called chef in bed."

"Fuck off, Richie," Natalie glares, but then it falls, and it's replaced with a teasing grin, "He definitely does."

"I heard that! Don't you two have better things to do?" Carmy screams at them.

"Yes, chef!"

Carmy keeps hearing Cicero's 'Uh-oh' throughout the whole day. He understands Cicero, he really does, but to call you a distraction?

His work with The Bear is only starting. They managed to make it to Friends and Family. Now, they have to keep up their best work to fill up the restaurant daily and have a waiting list. His work is far from done. He should listen to Cicero.

Cicero said it with the best of intentions. He doesn't want the Berzatto siblings to fail. He wants to believe they'll succeed and, most importantly, get him his money.

If there is something Cicero has learned throughout the years, it is that girls are distractions. They mean well, but oftentimes, they keep your eyes off the ball. Especially when it's a new relationship like Carmy's. Ultimately, it's up to Carmy to decide what he wants to do. Cicero has played his part by giving him his advice.

One last delivery is made to the restaurant an hour before opening. Richie is the one to receive it and place it in front of Carmy. "She's a keeper, Cousin," he says with a pointed look and a nod. He also wants the best for Carmy, and yet it doesn't align with Cicero.

You knew Carmy would be too stressed and all over the place to eat or drink, so you sent everyone at The Bear a drink and a pastry. One of the cups has Carmen's name with a little heart and 'good luck' written on it.

"Yeah, she is," Carmy sighs, turning the cup in his hands to look at the message. His thumb brushes over your handwriting longingly. Is listening to Cicero the wise thing to do? He's one of the most successful men he knows in his family.

When it's 10 minutes till open, Carmy changes into his uniform and looks in the mirror. His heart is racing, begging for Friends and Family not to be a complete failure. Walking out of the bathroom, Carmy is a man on a mission.

It starts relatively well, but like everything in Carmy's life, the kitchen starts welcoming in the chaos.

They are too slow getting the orders out, which causes Sydney to start doubting herself and asking Carmy to step in. He reassures her she's doing good. They just have to keep up the pace.

Then, one of the new chefs disappears mid-rush. Forcing Tina to work two stations and Marcus to step out of his to help Sydney. Carmy ignores some weird tension between them as he works on ensuring the dishes are good to go.

Next thing he knows, Sugar is rushing into the kitchen, yelling at him about forks. It's wasted time, as he can't do anything about it. A shrill reverberates inside his head as he looks at the ticking clock. It's enough to give him a headache.

With no one to take a dish to its table, Carmy takes it upon himself to do it. There's no time to re-fire or wait for someone. He places it on their table and pours the tea into their cups before retreating with an 'enjoy.'

He looks at his restaurant, and suddenly, the ringing in his head gets louder. Sitting in a booth is his old boss, staring back at him like he did back in New York. Like he was waiting for Carmy to fail.

His voice echoes in Carmy's head. Why are you so fuckin' slow. Hurry up. Go faster motherfucker. Talentless piece of shit.

Right before Carmy spirals, it all goes away. His focus shifts entirely as he sees you taking your seat for the night. The one he chose because he'd be able to see you from the kitchen. You have successfully blocked the mirage he'd conjured up.

You're there with your brother as Richie talks you up, thanking you for coming. As if sensing him, your eyes lock with Carmys. Shyly, you send him a wave, which he returns, thanking you in his head for getting there at the perfect time.

Carmy ducks back to the kitchen with newfound energy. Richie enters shortly after him.

"Chef, your girl is here."

"Thanks, Chef, um, do you have the notepad?" Carmy asks as he continues cleaning dishes and making sure each one is up to par.

"Here you go."

Taking the notepad from Richie, he begins scribbling. I love- No, too fuckin' soon. Thank you for- Nope, it's too stale.

I'm happy you're here, Honey. Wait for me after you're done? -Bear

"Here," Carmy hands it to him without even looking at Richie.

"Keep up the good work, Chefs," Richie yells out to the room before disappearing to the front of the house. The door swinging shut behind him.

"Yes, Chef!"

Something isn't working in the kitchen. They're too backed up, and no matter how hard they try, they're always a tad too slow. Through Sydney surrounding the wheel to Richie, Carmy steals glances out the kitchen window. You're smiling at whatever your brother says, your lips sipping the wine he chose. Carmy can get through this night because, in the end, you'll be waiting for him.

"There he is," you sing as you spot Carmy walking out of the kitchen. The chef's whites back in his locker as he sports his white t-shirt, jeans, and jacket.

Fak, who kept you company while Carmy finished up, speaks up next, "My brother, I'm gonna grab a sandwich and head home. Honey, it was a pleasure meeting you."

"You too, Neil!"

"Thanks for everything," Carmy tells him, giving him a hug and a pat like dudes do.

Carmy turns and grabs your hand to pull you close and kiss your cheek. "What did you think?"

"It was the most delicious thing I've ever tasted," you tell him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

There's a reason Carmy has had so many accolades despite his young age. He has a gift in the kitchen. The moment his food touched your taste buds, your life changed. He and Sydney outdid themselves, and the way everything flowed showed how much work they put into the restaurant.

"You're exaggerating," Carmy modestly says, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"I'm really not," you shake your head, pursing your lips. Carmy can't resist placing a small peck on your red-painted lips.

"What about your famous pizza?"

"No, it might be the best pizza in Chicago, but whatever I ate today topped it," you smile at him, scrunching your nose. "Consider your chef's license reinstated,"

"Thanks," Carmy laughs breathily, "Do you mind if we walk? I feel some of the rush still."

"Lead the way, Mr. Berzatto."

Carmy grabs your hand, leading you to the streets of Chicago. It's silent momentarily as the wind cools Carmy's heated face. He places his hand along with yours into his pocket.

"Did your brother like it?" He asks, breaking the ice.

"Oh yeah. I'm officially like the best sister ever," you respond, squeezing his hand.

You had accidentally forgotten that your brother had passed the Bar exam. So, you didn't have time to get him anything in celebration. You figured dinner at a lovely new restaurant would help while you got him a proper present.

"How did you feel throughout, though? It looked intense." You often found yourself looking through the small glass window into the kitchen. They were always on the move, looking for the next thing to do.

"It didn't just look like it. I'm used to it, though," Carmy admits with a sniff. Everyone's best and worst habits shone through for those couple of hours. It's an environment he's all too familiar with, in and out of the kitchen.

"That rough," you grimace.

"It's fine. We have a lot to work on, but it's a start, and it wasn't entirely terrible," Carmy says, thinking back on tonight. Before coming out to meet you, he wrote down a couple of things to go through with Sugar and Sydney.

"Good, 'cause I hope The Bear sticks around the block," you say, bumping your shoulder with his.

You invite Carmy into your house when you arrive. He takes up your offer, holding your hand to help you balance as you take your heels off. It reminds Carmy he forgot to mention how beautiful you looked today.

He follows you to the kitchen, watching your hips sway and your dress skirt swishing. Padding to the wine fridge, you pick out a bottle of red to celebrate.

Carmy indulges in looking at your legs as you stretch up to reach for the glasses of wine up in your cabinets. His blue eyes darken as your dress hikes up, exposing your pretty thighs.

His gaze darts back up at you when you turn around to place the glasses on the kitchen counter. You hand him the wine opener so he can do the honors because you suck at taking the cork out. It's why you mainly stick to cheaper wines with twist-off caps.

"Here is to The Bear and its amazing owner," you say, lifting your glass in front of you.

"Here's to not fuckin' it up entirely," Carmy follows, making you giggle. Your wine glasses clink, and you take a drink.

Placing the glass back down, Carmy pins you against the counter, his strong hands resting on the edge of it. You look at him through your lashes, a hand coming up to his chest to feel the steady thumping of his heart.

"You look beautiful. I like the dress," Carmy murmurs. It's better late than never.

The dress you wear is a pretty shade of light blue. Simple yet dressy. The neckline gives him a good view of your cleavage and has long sleeves to compensate for the shorter length. They currently cover the goosebumps lining your skin.

"Yeah? I picked it out thinking you might," you reveal, biting your lip. The shade reminded you of his eyes.

"You were right," he whispers, cupping your jaw. As pretty as the dress is, he's sure it'll look so much better on the floor.

Carmy closes his eyes as he leans down to kiss you. He's always struggled with words, so he hopes it's enough for you to catch what he's trying to say.

You smile into the kiss, blindly leaving your glass to the side to be able to touch him. Your palm presses against his chest and taut abdomen. He hides a nice amount of muscle under his t-shirts, a pleasant surprise.

Carmy easily lifts you up to sit down on the kitchen island. He steps between your legs, never breaking the heated kiss. The hands on your waist trail down to your thighs and under your dress. Carmy's tattooed hands squeeze your ass and thighs, earning him a moan from you.

This is the farthest you've ever gotten, and you're more than ready to have all of him. Carmy knows this, which leads to his thoughts getting out of control.

He has to make a decision now. Does he allow himself to be with you, or does he remain by himself like always? Richie's, Sugar's, Cicero's, and Sydney's voices all shout at him different things. Some are in favor, and others are in opposition. 'Uh oh.'

He can't lead you on and sleep with you if he will back out tomorrow. The voices become deafening in an instant, ripping him away from your embrace. His emotions bubbled over and spilled all over the place.

"Wait, stop, I just-" Carmy breathes heavily, taking a couple of steps back from you. Carmy's hand comes up to his forehead as he attempts to organize his thoughts.

"What's wrong?" You ask worriedly. Did you do something wrong?

Carmen's thoughts spill out his mouth without making much sense as he paces in your kitchen. "I can't stop thinking about it and owe it to my team..."

"Carm?" You slide off the kitchen counter, approaching him slowly.

"-keeps saying it's a distraction," he rambles mostly to himself. His heart is pounding painfully in his chest. If he didn't know any better, he'd think he was having a heart attack.

"Hey, hey, hey. What's a distraction?" Softly, you grab onto his arms, stopping him in his tracks, trying to find his lost gaze.

"You. Whatever this is," Carmy breathes, finally meeting your eyes, which he instantly regrets as your eyes turn sad.

The watering of your eyes is unintentional, as is the knot forming in your throat. "You think I'm distracting you?" You question barely above a whisper.

His response is instant, "Fuck, no, the opposite. W-When I'm with you or-or think about you, things get clearer, and it's-it's when I feel the most focused." Carmy holds your shoulders, comforting you because he never meant to hurt you. He can't stand the sad look in your eyes.

Slowly, you begin to piece together his rambling and conclude that other people have been telling him you're a distraction. You wonder if they don't want him to be happy. The Bear is the center of Carmy's life, and before that, it was the restaurant in New York. He deserves more than this crazy job.

"Then fuck what others tell you, Carmen. You deserve to have a life outside The Bear." Maybe you're selfish because you don't want to lose him, but you hope he believes your words.

"I-I don't. I don't deserve all your attention or your affection. I'm nothing special. I don't deserve you." Carmy says, shaking his head with furrowed brows.

Weeks ago, he had no source of enjoyment. He said it himself at the support group. Now, he has you, yet he can't bear the thought of you wanting to be with him. He feels like he's tricking you into a bad deal. That's what he is, though, isn't he? An overachieving fuck up with tons upon tons of baggage.

Carmen Berzatto is an anxious person with too many problems in his life. He has a fucked up family. His mother is a mentally unstable alcoholic. His brother was addicted to painkillers and decided that shooting himself on a bridge was better than living this life. That's without mentioning all the trauma he has from his job and the terrible people he's worked with.

What good does he have to offer you?

"Yes, you do," you reassure him, placing your hands on his cheeks. The cool metal of your rings soothes him somewhat, grounding him. "You deserve all that and more, Carmy. You're so sweet and kind and hard-working. You've been through shit. You deserve something good in life. Maybe it's me, or maybe it's not, but don't close yourself off."

You're begging at this point. Whatever this relationship is, it's just starting. He's not giving himself a chance. You like Carmy so damn much. He's funny without knowing it and thoughtful, too. There are so many qualities he doesn't realize he has.

His eyes watch you as tears line them. He's silently pleading for you to convince him. To get him out of his own head and forget the expectations others have on him.

"I'm not going to force you into anything, Carm. It's your call, but I've enjoyed our last couple of months together. I know we don't know each other completely, but I want to know everything about you. I have feelings for you, so whatever you decide, I'll support it."

Being honest is all you can do at this point. You pour your heart out and hope Carmy chooses you.

You and Carmy stand in the middle of your kitchen. Face to face, reaching out towards each other. It's clear as day that you want the same thing. It's only a matter of taking the right steps now.

"I can't let you go," Carmy responds, grabbing the hand on his cheek. His thumb brushes over the back of it.

"Then don't."

Carmy's decision is made. Without another thought, he smashes his lips against yours. He grabs the back of your neck, tilting your head to meet his heated kiss.

It's more intense now that the cards are on the table. Nothing to hold him back.

Tongues clash together as your bodies seek each other out. The temperature rises when Carmy lifts you up to wrap your legs around his hips. His hands are on the back of your thighs, holding tight onto you.

"Bedroom?" He asks, breaking the kiss, a trail of saliva between the two of you.

"Down the hallway," you breathe heavily, kissing down his neck.

Carmy makes it to the bedroom, opening the door with a bang. He spots your bed, placing you in the middle with him holding himself up on top of you.

He watches as your back meets the bed and your fair fans around you like a halo. The curvature of your breasts accentuated even more from the position.

Carmy hikes your leg further up his hips as he dips down to kiss a wet trail down to the neckline of your dress. He leaves open-mouthed kisses on the rounded flesh, nipping at the skin playfully when you arch your back to push more into him.

"Carmy," you breathe, cupping his jaw to pull him back to your lips. Grinding your hips, you manage to graze against his bulge.

"Shit," Carmy shakily curses, thrusting his hips to meet your touch once more.

Curiously, your hands wander across his body. Carmy's moans in your ear make your panties wetter than they already are.

You grasp the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and off. You're desperate to have him, your cunt aches for him. Your nails scratch down his firm stomach when he bites into your earlobe, softly calling your name.

"Unzip me," you pant, pushing him away and pulling your hair off to the side.

Carmy grabs the small zipper, pushing it down and exposing your pretty skin. As he slides the fabric off of you, he kisses your shoulders and back, taking note of the goosebumps on your skin.

His mind is in the present, and nothing can take it away from him. It's like a switch he managed to turn off in his brain. No more family drama, no more The Bear. It's just you...and him. Honey and Bear.

You stretch your neck to the side, giving Carmy more space to pepper kisses across the delicate skin. The dress pooling at your feet exposes your chest, and Carmy's hands come up from behind you. His fingers shyly brush up your stomach, tickling you, until they find your breasts.

He draws a moan from you as he squeezes them in his palms, pushing you back to meet his chest; turning your head to the side, you find his lips.

The kiss breaks when he slides one of his hands into your underwear, dipping his finger to feel your wetness. Your arm reaches back to dig your fist in his curls.

"You're soaked, Honey," he moans, finding your clit to tease it.

"Been waiting for so long, Carmy," you whine as your hips stutter along with the flicks of his wrist.

"I'm sorry. I'm here now," he purrs into your ear.

Carmy can hear the distinct 'shlick, shlick, shlick' of his fingers against your clit. It spurs him on as he slips a finger into you. He can't wait to have his cock inside of you, snug and warm.

"Oh my god, Carmen," you gasp when he prods another finger into your entrance. Hanging onto his arm across your chest, you roll your hips against his fingers.

"I got you," he says, digging his fingers deeper into you and curling them.

Your knees buckle as the tips of his fingers curl and hit your g spot repeatedly. If it weren't for him, you'd be on the floor. With your tummy tensing under the weight of the pleasure, you stutter out, "I'm gonna cum."

Carmy's hand is wet from your juices as he ups the ante. Just as your walls begin to squeeze around his fingers, he pulls them out to circle around your clit.

"Oh, f-fuck!" You squeal, throwing your head back onto his shoulder.

The way your clit softly twitches under the pads of his fingers fucks with Carmy. It makes his cock throb and leak into his jeans.

Untangling from his embrace, you place a breathless kiss on Carmy's lips. His slick digits dig into your hips as he prolongs it.

Blindly, you find the edge of his jeans and unbutton them. If Carmy notices, he doesn't say anything. You want to give him one more reason to stay with you.

He moans into your mouth when you grasp his length through his boxers. He's rock hard as he desperately ruts against your hand.

With your hold still on him, you push him to sit on the bed. Carmy looks up at you lustfully. You plant a single short kiss on his lips before kneeling on the floor between his legs. You leave love bites down his chest while looking up at him through your lashes.

Carmy brushes away any hair that falls on your face, his blue eyes focused solely on you. When you reach the waistband of his pants, you pull them down along with his underwear.

His length pops up from its confines, slapping against his tummy. Its tip is a pretty pink shade, with a thick length and a slight curve to it. You salivate instantly at the sight of it.

Carmy's nervous under you. It's been a long since he's been with someone else, and he's never been the most confident.

"Relax," you say teasingly, kissing around his lower tummy to calm him.

Finally, your hand wraps around his cock, lightly pumping it. Leaving sloppy kisses down his happy trail, you feel Carmy's stomach taut in anticipation.

It's been so fuckin' long.

With your eyes staring into his hungry ones, you kiss the pink head that glistens with pre, teasingly brushing it against your lips. Keeping eye contact, you lick his length from base to tip. You alternate between kissing and licking for a minute, enjoying watching Carmy squirm.

"Fuck, Honey," Carmy throws his head back at your torturous pace.

"Look at me," you sweetly say.

Taking mercy on him, you part your lips to take his length into your warm, wet mouth, bobbing your head to a steady rhythm. Prying one of Carmy's hands from the bedsheets, you place it in your hair, encouraging him to use you.

"Good girl," he moans, fisting your hair to force you to take more of his cock. You let your hands rest on his thighs, feeling the strong muscles underneath.

Carmen observes you with hooded eyes as you hollow your cheeks, sucking him expertly. He's obsessed with how your lips leave behind a tinge of red lipstick on his skin.

"Shit-Fuck me," he yells into the room when you swallow around him.

You want him to cum, but Carmy has other plans. He doesn't think he'll last long if you make him cum now, so after the stunt you pulled, he pulls you off his sensitive cock.

The sight in front of him is erotic as a string of saliva connects you to his cock. The tears lining your eyes and blushed nose add to that pretty picture.

"c'me 'ere," he says, helping you up and kissing you as he leads you back to the bed. He tugs off your wet panties, throwing them somewhere in the room.

You lay back on your pillows with Carmy slotted between your legs. It's torture having him so close and yet so far. Now that you've gotten a taste of his cock you need more.

Carmy touches the inside of your thighs, inching his way closer to your cunt. He instantly notices how fuckin' wet you are. You're dripping even more than before.

"Sucking me off, got you this wet, princess?" He asks, leaning his forehead against yours.

"Mhm, Carmy, wish you would've cum in my mouth," you admit, tilting your head up to brush your lips against his.

"You have such a dirty fuckin' mouth," he chuckles darkly.

Where did this side of you come from? You're usually so sweet and delicate. He should've known you would be a freak in bed. To think he almost let this all go.

"Carmen, please."

"Please, what?" Carmen teases, lining his cock against your opening, wetting his cock.

"Fuck me," you moan, kissing his jaw.

"'m gonna fuck you good, princess," he promises, with a shaky nod before he remembers, "Fuck! I-I don't have a condom with me."

"I should have some in my drawer," you mention breathlessly.

Carmy opens the condom in record time but is surprised when you take it from his hands and roll it down his shaft yourself. You just want an excuse to keep touching him.

With your leg hiked up, he aligns himself and slowly pushes in. You both gasp at the sensation. Carmy, for one, is trying to not bust a nut so soon because you're so tight and warm.

Meanwhile, you hold onto Carmy's back as he stretches you out. It's been so long, and your toys aren't nearly as thick as him. You breathily moan in his ear, which he takes as a good sign as he begins thrusting more forcefully and deeper.

Carmy hopes this isn't a dream, and if it is, he hopes he doesn't wake up anytime soon. He has one hand holding onto your thigh and the other holding himself up. His gold chain dangles above you as he picks his head up from its spot on your shoulder. You take the chance to tug on it, returning his attention to your lips.

"You feel so fuckin' good, princess," Carmy groans, squeezing your thigh.

"I love your cock, Carmy," you whine, feeling the drag of his cock on your walls. The pleasure is all-consuming, leaving a fuzzy feeling in your brain.

"You like when I fuck you like this?"

"Yes, yes, yes, keep going."

His hips snap hard against yours, hitting that spot each and every time. His pelvis hitting your clit. He squeezes your thigh, hips, and sides before his hand squeezes your tits, too, playing with your nipples.

Suddenly, he straightens up, pulling you down the bed to have you flushed against his pelvis. He's a sight for sore eyes that forces you to keep your eyes open.

His thrusts are more forceful like this, where he digs his fingers into the fat of your hips to pull you towards him with each snap. It makes your tits bounce, hypnotizing him.

Through your lustful gaze, he looks like a marble statue. His chest glimmers under the lowlights of your room as sweat clings to him, his chain jumping against the blushed skin of his chest, and his fucking hair falling over his pretty eyes. The set of his jaw could've been sculpted by Michaelangelo himself.

Your hands indulgently reach down to touch him in any way you can. You can only reach his stomach, where a nice pair of abs appear due to the effort.

"You like what you see?" Carmy teases. He's entirely lost on you because otherwise, he wouldn't be as cocky to say that.

"You're so handsome," you pitifully say. Your brain not computing as it should, but how can it when it's being fucked out of you?

Carmy doesn't know how to respond. It's not often he's called handsome or looked at as lustfully as you're looking at him. Thankfully, he doesn't need to say much as your eyes roll back and you squeeze your walls around him.

"Carmy, I'm so close," you pant, trying to find any part of him to hold. He offers you his hand, lacing your fingers together.

"Just a little longer, princess," Carmy groans as you clench around him. "Fuck, don't do that to me."

He glances down at the spot where you and him meet to see a ring of white on the base of his cock. He's enthralled with the way you stretch to accommodate him and the way your pink walls drag along his length when he pulls out. Fuckin' beautiful.

Putting all his knowledge to use, he thumbs your clit, making you jolt. He needs you to cum now, or he won't make it. His balls feel like they're about to burst.

"Carmy," you cry out, tightening the hold on his hand.

You teeter on the edge for only a second until you cum, waves of pleasure washing over you. Carmy curses from above you as your tightening walls choke his cock, making him cum too. He stutters his hips a couple more times, riding out his orgasm.

He leans back down again, catching your lips in a small kiss. His body slowly relaxes against yours as his head rests on your neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and perfume.

"That was good," you breathe heavily, rubbing your hands up and down your back. You're just starting to think clearly.

"Fuckin' amazing," he adds.

There's a beat of silence before you both burst out laughing.

A bubble encases you, and it can't be popped as long as you stay in your bedroom. Carmy doesn't want to leave; it's late already, and in a couple of hours, he has to get up and go to The Bear to repeat the process.

For once, he forgets about that and focuses solely on you. He has a couple of hours to spare. Sleep is overrated.

You face each other on the bed, talking in hushed whispers. Your fingers trace the '773' tattoo on his bicep like you've always wanted to do. It tickles Carmy, so he grabs your hand and kisses your palm.

"Now that I'm thinking about it. I didn't see your tattoo," he whispers to prevent disturbing the peace.

Your face warms at his words. You had forgotten about that. He's seen a lot of you in the past couple of hours. What's a bit more of skin?

"You missed my big bad tattoo?" you joke, poking his nose.

"Show me," he says with a lopsided smile.

You make it dramatic, rolling your eyes and giving him a big sigh. Sitting up on the bed, you peel the bed sheets from your body. Carmy props himself up on his elbow in anticipation.

Right there, on your left side and under the curve of your breast is a small outline of Winnie the Pooh's face. Carmy touches it, biting his lip to hold back a laugh. Unsurprisingly, it's precisely what he expected from you.

A few chuckles pass his lips as he pulls you back into his arms.

"Don't laugh. It made sense at the time," you whine, covering yourself back up.

Carmy pulls you to his chest, kissing your temple, "I'm sure it does. Pooh Bear loves his Honey," Just like he does.

"Exactly! Someone gets it!"

And he does because Carmy, aka The Bear, is quickly falling for his Honey.

A couple of days later, Carmy is back at your house helping you prepare the famous pizza you promised him. He lets you take the lead on everything, preferring to follow your instructions rather than let his mind run wild. It's not like you'll let him do most of the work anyway; it's your recipe, and you're protective over it.

"Can you chop up the veggies?" You ask him as you lay down the dough in a pan.

"Yes, Chef," he nods, kissing your cheek as he digs through your kitchen drawers for a knife.

"Oh, I like the sound of that," you muse, shaking your shoulders as you knead the dough to spread it.

"Don't let it get to your head, Hun," Carmy smiles, slicing the vegetables expertly.

Cooking with Carmy is surprisingly easier than you thought. He's not controlling over the kitchen or judgy. He lets you do your thing in peace, following your orders no matter how strange they might be. This is your kitchen, not his.

As you spread the sauce and cheese over one of the doughs, Carmy gets a call. He wipes his hands with a rag and picks it up. You only hear his side of the conversation.

"No, I'm off tonight. I'm with my girl. Call Sugar. She should be able to help you with that. Great. Thanks."

Carmy had promised himself that he would try to balance it all better. He has his team to help each other out. The Bear is a priority, but so are you because you help him keep whatever sanity he has left.

Carmy hangs up, and when he returns to you, he notices the grin on your lips as you put the toppings he chopped on the pizza.

"What's with the smile?" Carmy stands behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he props his head on your shoulder. Your hair tickles his nose, smelling the notes of coconut of your shampoo he digs his head farther into it.

"I'm your girl?" You ask, the smile still present on your face. He'd missed your initial reaction when you heard him call you 'my girl.' You almost dropped the container of pepperoni that was in your hands. It's a shock cause he never asked you to be his girl.

Carmy pauses and tenses up against you. "Uh, yes? Hold up. Turn around," he orders, as he places his hand on your hips to turn your body around.

"Yes, chef," you respond cheekily, your arms around his neck, careful not to touch his sweater with your messy hands.

"Aren't you my girl?" He frowns, rubbing a thumb over your hips.

"I could be, but I don't remember you asking," you pretend to think.

Carmy never directly asked you to be his girlfriend, and you never asked him to be your boyfriend. You might as well be a couple since you've been dating long enough. You decide to seize the opportunity now to get it out of him. Having a proper anniversary day would be nice because you hope this lasts.

"I see, my mistake," Carmy nods, catching your vibe, "Honey…"

"Yes, Carmy?" You blink innocently at him.

"Would you do me the honor of becoming my girlfriend?" He finally asks.

You could joke around but decided against it cause the moment is perfect, "I'd love to," you nod, giving him a small kiss.

When the pizza is cooked, you bring it over to the dining table. Serving Carmy a pretty slice. Excitedly, you wait for him to bite into it and taste it.

"What do you think?" You ask expectantly.

"You were right. Best pizza in Chicago," Carmy agrees with an unbelievable laugh. He's got a lot to learn from you. It's the truth, or maybe he's blinded by his feelings. Only time will tell where you and Carmy will end up.

The End?

thank you guys for pulling through and reading! i know it's a slow burn but i hope you liked it! i certainly enjoyed writing it even though it took me like 4 months.

if you liked it, i would appreciate you liking it, commenting or reblogging. if you have some feedback feel free to send it my way too. i wanna get better at this whole writing thing!

thank you! bye xx

thinking about how seeing how many times i can make a pain sub cum from gently torturing their cunt

starting by tying a tight crotch rope onto them with thick rough rope, watching them helplessly grind into the rough surface, rough surface merciless against their sensitive flesh. their hole drooling all over the rope as the rough texture rubs them raw. touching them all over in ways that make them squirm as every movement makes the rope pull tighter. one.

spreading their legs and spanking their cunt over the rope, already red abused flesh puffing up and swelling as they buck with every strike, grinding into the now slick covered surface. taking my time to let them recover, let their muscles relax before hitting them again, hard and sharp as they moan at the sensation. two.

coating the slick rope with ginger juices for them to grind into, and pushing a small ginger plug into their ass. the sensitive flesh burning as they helplessly clench and writhe. unable to escape the pain and the pleasure as they involuntarily hump the rope, hips moving without control as they spread the burning liquid all over themselves as they move more and more. three.

spreading their legs again and spanking their cunt with a paddle. firm bruising strikes to the puffy red flesh, tear streaked cheeks as each contact of the paddle forces them to clench around the burning ginger in their ass and rub further into the ginger coated rope. four.

removing the ginger plug and stuffing both holes with slightly too big dildos, held in to the base by the rope. each one carefully coated with ginger. the angle preventing any contact with their tdick forcing them to hump and writhe as their burning full holes get fucked with every movement. five.

holding a powerful vibrator over the rope, rubbing the burning rough material against their swollen sensitive tdick, watching them shiver and buck trying to escape the sensation but unable to. increasing the power of the vibration until their bladder gives out and they start pissing themselves. six. seven.

removing the rope and the dildos, wiping away the ginger and rubbing aloe along the abused flesh. stuffing their stretched holes with ice and pressing fresh aloe coated plugs in to keep them full. teasing their tdick with an ice cube rubbing the cold surface over the sensitive head, numbing and cooling the flesh as it gets stimulated. eight.

placing a tight clamp on their dick and removing the plugs as cold water flows out of them. replacing the plugs with thicker dildos, this time attached to a dual fucking machine, alternating between thrusting in each hole. pounding and stretching their holes with the machine while i flick their clamped tdick. their dazed eyes no longer shedding tears as they simply shudder involuntarily as i play with them. nine.

steadily increase the size of the dildos inside them until they are loose enough to take my fist and then turning up the machine to its highest setting. admiring the way they shake and shudder with the constant rapid pounding, the way their body has relaxed into the pleasure of the pain. pissing themselves again as the relentless stretch and constant filling overwhelms them. ten.

turning off the machine but keeping the dildos inside them to the base. pushing a small sound into their pisshole, filling them in every hole they have. their dick twitching as they struggle with the sensation of being so full. watching their one unruined hole stretch and clench around the sound as i fuck them like this. eleven.

removing the dildos and admiring their gaping holes. rubbing more all ginger over their holes and dick. watching how their body reacts to the sudden emptiness the lack of external stimulation, just the burning of the ginger over their abused sensitive flesh. the way they grind into my hand as i rub more ginger into their dick and cunt, despite the pain their body knows they crave it. massaging their dick with ginger as they grind into my hand sobbing lightly at the pain but bucking into it none the less. twelve.

wiping away all the ginger until nothing is left but their soft red flesh, now swollen and puffy, splotchy purple in places from the repeated spankings. holes loose and gaping open, cunt still drooling. spanking their dick with a riding crop. direct targeted sensation. the red angry head stiff and swollen, twitching with every stinging hit. holes not even twitching anymore fully open and relaxed as they drip down their legs. hard stinging strikes to the sensitive head of their tdick as their body trembles. thirteen

and if they hadn't passed out, how many more?

[a/n: this is a fantasy that contains RACK activities. do your research and play carefully]

EWAN MITCHELL as AEMOND TARGARYEN | House of the Dragon S2E3

The Bear + text posts (Richie edition)

THE BLOOD CROWN

MASTERLIST

[Aemond Targaryen Fanfiction ]

[Dark Romance / Enemies to Lovers / Revenge]

[warnings: smut, sex content, angst, fights, domination, murder]

[Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character ! I fem!reader]

Content for adults. 18+

Summary

"𝗜𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗞𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗸 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗤𝘂𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹."

Queen Alicent had spoken the truth when these words had left her mouth, the moment the King decided not to punish Princess Rhaenyra's son for taking the eye of her child. In the night, in the safe place of her chambers, she gave the order to have Lucery's Velaryon taken and sold into slavery. But a regrettable misunderstanding causes Larys Strong's men to take, not the culprit, but Aemma Velaryon, Rhaenyra's youngest child, and banish her to a life of suffering and loneliness.

Aemma Velaryon had not been seen since then but the gods do not forget and sometimes fate strikes back harder than you would have expected.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 16 Part 2

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Part 21

Part 21 Part 2

Part 22

Part 23

Part 24

Part 25

Part 25 Part 2

Part 26

Part 27

Part 28

Part 29 Part 1

Part 29 Part 2

Taglist:

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If you want to read it on wattpad, here the link:

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗖𝗥𝗢𝗪𝗡 𝗜 AEMOND TARGARYEN - bananadrink - Wattpad

Imagine being the only human at a monster market and everyone is obsessed with you. They insist on you setting a kissing booth to "get a bit more money" than selling your usual human bread. When you finally give in, the line is so long you can't see the end of it. You kiss so many monsters you lose track of what is what or who is who. You promised it was only going to be a one time thing, but you can't stop thinking about how many tongues where shoved back your throat, how many textured lips and wild hands grabbed your hair... You can't stop thinking what else would they do to you. That gets you so hot under the collar that you have masturbated about that idea way too many times. Maybe you could try again. Maybe you get a bit frisky and let them touch you a bit more. Maybe some of them can't hold themselves back and grope you. Maybe a traveling hand fingerfucks you in the middle of the market with everyone looking. And maybe your booth becomes the talk of the market and even more monsters come to see you. Come to touch you. Maybe you can upgrade to a sex booth...

okay but consider: impersonal breeding

you're captured and taken to a lab--by who? scientists, aliens, robots, just human hobbyists? you're strapped down to stirrups incapable of moving at all, only just barely able to squirm.

a machine lowers itself to the end of the stirrups table with surgical precision and you see that it has a no-needle syringe attached to the end of the mechanical arm, full to the top line with white cum. you can't wiggle away, so you can only watch as it inserts itself into your fertile hole, presses the end against your cervix opening, and depresses the plunger, filling your insides with fresh virile come. the machine itself is cold as it slides out of you and you can see the totally empty plunger, knowing how much come was just pushed deep inside you.

but then the machine loads another syringe, and you realize you have no idea how much it's going to make you take. another syringe is pushed inside your breeding hole and pressed with a twinge of pain into the opening to your womb. more cum floods your insides. you take load after load until it gushes out of your inseminated womb, oozes out of your hole and down your thighs.

or alternatively, consider: impersonal breeding through a fucking machine. when you're in the stirrups, the clinically-approved fake cock will push inside you, then when the cartridge of semen is ready and loaded, it will fuck you hard and deep in exactly the position and pace that's best for insemination until the machine's fake cock goes still as deep as it can in your hole and desposits the warm contents of the cartridge. then it loads another cartridge and starts up again at the same machine pace, pressing deep and depositing a load in you again and again and again.

LISTEN TO THAT Y E A H

The Fall from the Heavens Characters Moodbards He turned impatiently, extending his hand to his servant, willing him to hand him another wooden shield and froze in half-step, out of the corner of his eye noticing a silhouette looking at him from the cloisters, it seemed his heart knew who was standing there even before it reached his mind, for it began to pound like mad, his breath stopped in his throat. He forced himself to look there again and that's when he saw her, he couldn't believe how much she had changed. Although he could see the obvious features and similarities by which he recognised her immediately, her eyes, her eyelashes, the shade of her hair, the shape of her nose and face, it seemed to him that if she had been a bud when she left the Red Keep, she was now a flower that had blossomed, a ripe fruit that begged to be plucked, to bite into its flesh.

It's been a while since you've seen a doctor, and you're nervous as you follow the nurse back to my office. What's there to be nervous about, this is just a little checkup, right? You notice the nurse's manicured burgundy nails as she knocks sharply on the door. She turns to you, smiling prettily, and says, "the doctor will see you now."

You push open the door and enter quite a large room. The nurse follows, closing the door behind you. In the center is the examination table, off to the right is a small crowd of young adults, appearing to be made up of men and women, and on the left is me, seated at my desk. "Welcome," I say, standing and extending one hand. My voice is deep, warm, and smooth, and you fumble for a moment, blushing a little, before you remember to shake my hand. Your hand is dwarfed in mine, my strong fingers encircling you, and a thought flashes unbidden through your mind - what would those fingers feel like inside you? - but, come on now, that's really not appropriate...

"I have a few students with me, as you can see. Is that alright?"

"Well, yes, of course!" Why shouldn't it be?

"Excellent. Now, I'm pioneering this new full-body examination method - it's really quite extraordinary, the maladies I can detect this way - but be warned, it is, shall we say, unorthodox. Is that alright?"

Just for a moment, you see something in my eyes, something behind the genial smile and gentle, reassuring tone. Just for a moment, you feel like some specimen, some piece of meat, pinned down under the lights with nowhere to go... but just for a moment. Surely, nothing bad can happen, and I'm a doctor, aren't I? You can trust me. So you swallow your fear, and you acquiesce.

"Excellent! Let's have a seat on the table, if you don't mind, and we'll make a start. Nurse V, if you would..."

As you sit on the table, the clinical, sterile seating a little cold against your skin, the pretty nurse steps behind the table, facing you, waiting for something. From your right, I approach, and you feel again just how much larger than you I am as my broad shoulders block out one of the ceiling lights. With all these people watching you, it takes all you have not to squeeze your legs together, just a little bit.

We begin with a quick examination of your face - "you have beautiful eyes, you know," I purr into one ear. I place one hand on the side of your neck and tilt your head; god, you've been reading too much, haven't you, the way you want these strong, expert fingers to close around your throat.

"Now, open your mouth for me, please." You oblige, and I cup your chin and slide my thumb into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. Your eyebrows jump in surprise, and you look at me questioningly.

I smile again, still inside you. "Unorthodox, remember? Now, close your mouth and try to swallow." From behind, the nurse strokes your cheek with the back of one hand, and you feel a sudden ache between your legs. You close your lips around my thumb and swallow. It tastes... clean, mostly, as one might expect from a doctor, but you can taste the sweat underneath.

"Very good, one more time for me."

You swallow again, and you feel me slide my thumb over the surface of your tongue, pressing down, swirling in circles.

"And, one more time... yes, that's it, good job, very good job."

The praise for this degrading task is more than you can bear, and you squeeze your thighs together. Fuck, it's humiliating, everyone just saw you do that... All these eyes on you, the beautiful nurse behind you, this big, strong doctor with these big, strong hands and that big fucking bulge... but no, this is just a checkup, nothing is going to happen, right?

While you were thinking, I dried my hand off and had begun speaking.

"I'm - I'm sorry?"

"No worries. I was saying, can you remove your top, please? We need to examine your heart and your breathing."

You stare at me. "Remove my - "

"Yes, remove your top. The fewer barriers between me and you, the less interference with my examination." My face is quite serious, almost bored - this really must be routine. You look back at the nurse, and she smiles slightly and nods. So you undress, your nipples betraying you, standing at attention. You blush as the crowd of students looks at you intently. The nurse lays one warm hand on your shoulder, slender fingers gripping you reassuringly, and your eyes are drawn once more to those burgundy nails.

I step in close, and you feel my breath warm on your chest. "Now, observe the stiffness in the patient's nipples - this is to be expected, given the cool air, and it's certainly nothing to be ashamed of," I say, smiling. I press my stethoscope up over your heart, the metal cold on your skin, and your mind is betrayed by the pounding of your heart. My eyes flick up to meet yours, and I grin, predatorily, and once again you feel like a piece of meat beneath the lights.

I examine your breasts, starting with your left. Enclosed in my big, strong hands, I squeeze and push, prod and pull, ostensibly feeling for any abnormalities, but the way my fingers brush over your nipples, the intensity with which I sink them into your soft breasts, heaving now as your breath comes faster... My practiced tongue rasps over one nipple and a tiny moan escapes your lips as you try desperately to hide how much you're enjoying this; try desperately, and fail.

Abruptly, I pull back. "Excellent! All seems well here." I rest one hand on your other shoulder and turn to the students. "Note the pleasure response during this section of the examination, and I hope you were paying attention to the oral technique."

I turn back to you, my eyes dancing as they meet yours. "Fully undress, if you would. The inspection must continue."

Your hands tremble as you slide your clothes down off your waist, and the nurse aids you, her lovely hands stroking along your thighs and calves as she does.

"And spread for us, please."

Obediently, your thighs open, exposing your cunt, your needy, aching wetness, to all.

"Note the beauty of the patient's sex, here. The shape of the folds," I murmur, tracing one finger along your sensitive lips, "the balanced ratio of the clitoris to the vulva overall," sliding two fingers on either side of your clit, squeezing gently between them, "the appropriate pleasure response in - "

You lose what I say as I plunge two fingers inside you, powerful and dextrous, knuckles slipping past your tightness easily. It feels so fucking good to finally have something inside you, after all this aching and teasing, and god, so many people are watching, they're all watching your pussy spread and toyed with by this big, strong, handsome older man, and now the nurse's slender fingers are across your throat and her lips are on your forehead, and she tells you that you're doing so well for me, you've been so good...

My fingers press up inside you, finding your g spot, and with my thumb rubbing on your clit, I start melting you. Waves of pleasure course through your body, you gasp, moan, whimper, and with your eyes closed you can't tell whose lips are so soft on yours, but it feels so fucking good, and all those people are watching and it makes you want it more, your back arching, chest heaving, melting under the attention, and finally, mercifully, you cum, contracting around my fingers, squeezing your thighs together, trembling, shaking, gasping for air. You hear me say something, but you're so overwhelmed with pleasure that all you can make out from my speech is "very, very good".

The hand withdraws from your throat, and I gently, gently, extricate my fingers, and settle my hand atop one thigh, fingers slick with your desire.

The nurse whispers affirmation in your ear as I address the class. "Stimulation in this manner, of the two most sensitive sex stimuli, brings the most consistent and powerful orgasms to those possessing these organs." I stroke the inside of your thigh reassuringly, before turning to you.

"The final part of this examination is seeing how well you handle penetration. I'm going to need your unequivocal verbal consent before proceeding."

The nurse leans in and whispers into your ear, "might I suggest 'please, sir, will you fuck me?'" You'd blush harder if you could.

You swallow, nervously, and there's a twisting in your gut as you say it. "Please," you begin, voice cracking. "Please, sir, will you fuck me?"

"Yes, that is sufficient. I must say, though," I warn, unzipping my jeans, "that I am quite large." I slap my cock down on your tummy, and the sheer weight of it shocks you. You've seen size like this in porn, sure, but fuck, you've never touched something like this. When you tear your gaze away from my cock, I'm grinning down at you, predatory again. "You can back out at any time, you know." My voice is low, teasing, challenging. "Should we continue?"

You nod shakily, and spread your legs a little wider.

One hand on your raised knee, one hand guiding my cock, I push against you. For a moment you realize the exam had to be done in this order; if you weren't so fucking wet, there's no chance you'd be able to take me. But all thoughts are blasted out of your mind as I push harder and slide in.

It's so fucking thick that you can't help but groan. You've never felt so full, so strained inside, being pushed in every direction; you're not built for this, maybe there's just too much, your body is rejecting me - and then I push again, another few inches, and you slam your head back against the padded table, a long, drawn-out "fuuuuuck" wrenched from your lips. You feel my strong hands brace at your hips, and with a final thrust, slamming your cervix up into your guts, moving your entire body, the ridges of my cock sliding deeper and deeper, sliding painfully, pleasurably past your walls, I'm inside you.

The nurse rests her hands on you again, and purrs in your ear, "you're doing so well for him, I know it's hard, it's so hard, but you're doing such a good job, pretty girl..."

Glacially, I pull out, allowing you a moment to rest, before thrusting in again, hands still at your waist. You sob once, loudly, and then you sink into it as I pick up a rhythm, deep, deep strokes inside you. You hear me grunting, whispering something, and I grow more frantic, impaling you a little harder, and through the wall of pleasure you hear me rumble, "nurse V, begin the overstimulation procedure."

"Certainly, doctor." She leans over you, lips fiercely meeting yours, and one of those slender hands reaches down to abuse your clit. An image of those burgundy nails on your cunt flashes through your mind as I continue pounding you, forcing you to spread for me, adjust to me, even as the nurse plays your clit like an instrument, and fuck, she's a virtuoso.

You sing a song of moans and voiceless curses under our combined mastery, knowing your audience is entranced, filled with a blazing, lusty pride. The deep bass of my voice, resonant in your skull, is saying something, but you cannot hear me; you're moaning, groaning, pleading, "yes, yes, oh my god yes" over and over...

The song swells to a crescendo and with two sudden strikes, two powerful thrusts into you, it ends with a thick, hot, sticky white wave of my approval inside you. You feel it pulse deep, deep inside, filling you, load after load delivered straight past your bruised, abused cervix.

You come back to reality with my cum spilling from between your legs, trailing thickly down onto the exam table. I zip up my jeans while the nurse helps dry you off, from all the sweat and saliva. She dabs caringly at your mouth, and you notice that the cloth is dyed the same shade as her lipstick.

"Now," I address the class, "I hope you were paying attention." I rest one hand on your aching, trembling thigh. How many times did you cum with me inside you? How long were all these people watching you writhe beneath me, begging, losing yourself in the pleasure? You have no fucking clue. "This patient has bravely volunteered for each of you to examine her, here and now, while she's available to us."

Your jaw drops. When did you agree to that? You would never - but you were begging, "yes, yes, yes" earlier, weren't you, while I was talking. You agreed. Everyone heard you say it.

"One at a time, please. And," I say to you, grinning wolfishly, "don't worry. I'll be watching the entire time."

MAKE THE FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS, TAKE THE MOMENT AND TASTE IT | AEMOND TARGARYEN

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU summary: in wich aemond is not afraid to make his move. very, very publicly, making the whole internet go insane. pairings: actor!aemond x singer!reader content warnings: faceclaim is sabrina carpenter but you can imagine reader as you'd like, some cursing, taylor swift/travis kelce inspired plot, use of y/n because it is necessary!! if you don’t like it, sorry. note: omg i can't believe i'm doing this, hope you enjoy this piece little piece as much as i enjoyed making it! as i say; being delulu is the solulu. and here i am feeding into all out delusions. comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated! love you, mwah. 💋

TWITTER ‣ AUG 12, 2023.

INSTAGRAM ‣ AUG 12, 2023.

INSTAGRAM ‣ AUG 13, 2023.

Liked by taylorswift, aemondtargaryen, gracieabrams and 1,221,948 others

yourusername oldtown i couldn’t love you more. had the best first night with you and we still have three more to go! thanks so much to everyone there, i couldn't do this whout you. see you tonight for round 2? 🤍

view all 9,328 comments

user1 i can't believe i couldn't be there

zendaya had the best night with u!

yourusername thank u sm for coming, love you. 💗

user2 MOTHER IS MOTHERING

user3 i don't now if i wanna be her or if i wanna be with her

user4 I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU BUT I SEE AEMOND TARGARYEN IN HER LIKES

user5 I THOUGHT IT WAS A MISTAKE AT FIRST user6 I mean he was at Oldtown night1 so... user7 HE WENT TO HER CONCERT? user8 BESTIE HAVE YOU NOT SEEN THE PICS?

troyesivan see you 2night oldtown. ✌️

AEMOND TARGARYEN INTERVIEW ‣ AUG 25, 2023.

TWITTER ‣ AUG 25-26, 2023.

INSTAGRAM ‣ SEPT 21, 2023.

Liked by jace_velaryon, therhaenatarg and 891,648 others

fairyhelaena friends and family for the weekend @ highgarden. 💚🌺🪴🍃🕊️

view all 4,778 comments

lucerys03 looking 💯 as always.

baelatarg stop lying to yourself

user9 OH MY GOD IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS

user10 is that @yourusername in the second slide???

user11 yes!! she's in the fourth one too

yourusername 🤍🤍🤍

user12 it's impossible that she doesn't know about what aemond said, right? user13 knowing how jace is i'm sure she already knows. they probably were giving her a hard time lol

user14 Y/N hanging out with aemond's family but not him would never not make me laugh

user15 he's out there telling the world he likes her and she still hasn't say anything user16 and she doesn't have to. leave the poor girl alone user17 i mean she spent the whole weekend with aemond's sister and nephews, maybe he was there too user18 sorry to disappoint you but he's in king's landing user19 bro must be fuming, everyone in his family meeting his girl except for him

Liked by oliviarodrigo, nicholasgalitzine, aemondtargaryen and 955,899 others

yourusername took a couple of days off to hang out with some friends. see you in a bit for the second and final leg of the cruel summer tour! 💌

view all 11,565 comments

user20 she's glowing

user21 wait- i feel like i've seen that guy before

user22 that's because he's aemond's nephew and also an actor

fairyhelaena my pretty 🌟

user23 THAT'S LUKE VELARYON???????

user24 HE IS !!!!! user25 yes he is, she was with aemond's family during the weekend

user26 idk why but i have the feeling that aemond saw these pics and ran to call luke

user27 and was probably screaming at him for an hour lol user28 another reason for aemond to hate him user29 he doesn't hate him, he's family user28 you can hate family user30 stfu it is well known that they have had their differences but they're in good terms now user31 besides who are we to talk about it? that's private. there are comments under aemond's posts of them joking with each other lol user30 idk why she's talking shit.

user32 WHY IS SHE WITH HIS FAMILY BUT NOT WITH HIM?

user33 what world are we living in

iMESSAGE ‣ SEPT 31, 2023.

TWITTER ‣ OCT 10, 2023.

TWITTER ‣ OCT 28, 2023.

TWITTER ‣ DEC 04, 2023.

let me give you a kiss if you make it here! and let me know if you'd like a part 2 of this little smau. as i said comments & reblog are greatly appreciated!

chapter six: e pluribus unum

“There’s my pretty girl!” Steve giggles, head lolling to the side as he admires you. “Isn’t she the prettiest, Robin?” Robin giggles as well, her face just as bruised and bloodied as his. “So pretty!”  “Oh God,” despite their injured state, the two teens are in an unusually good mood. They giggle like school girls, Robin even bats her eyelashes at you. Something is off with them. “How hard did they hit your heads?”

Summary: things get hot and heavy in the face of death, mean russians kidnap your hot almost-boyfriend, you have a philosophical discussion about nerdiness with the kids, acid becomes your new favorite weapon, and steve and robin try drugs together. yippee !

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, violence, cursing, blood and mentions of death, use of weapons

Words: 6.7k

Before you swing in: oh BOY do i have a lot to say about this chapter ,,, but for now i will hold off. pls, enjoy her. youve all waited so very patiently for this moment, and im SO excited to see what yall have to say <333

-

“The gate,” you, Steve, and Dustin breathe out at the same time. You stare at the machine before you; the gravity of the situation settles upon all of you as the machine continues to send pulses of light into the entrance of the Upside Down. 

The lights flash, the blue flickers across your face as countless men in lab coats marvel at their creation, and your hands tighten into fists. What they have created will only undo the endless hours you have spent trying to protect everyone, it diminishes every sacrifice that has been made, it taunts the blood that has been spilled. 

You hate them, you hate what they have brought back into your life. 

“We have to get out of here.” No one argues with you, and quickly you guide everyone downstairs.

“What’s going on?” Robin asks as you gently push her down the stairs, quickening her pace. The urgence of your actions, however, only alert her that something is wrong. “Why do you guys look so scared?”

Days of hiding the truth from her have finally caught up to you, you can feel it, and yet there isn’t anything you can really tell her. Not yet, at least; there isn’t enough time. Hurrying down the stairs, you shake your head at Robin. “It’s a lot to explain.”

“I don’t understand, you’ve seen this before?”

She’s always been too perceptive.

You hate her genius mind. 

“Not exactly.” Steve takes over now, trying to help.

Robin’s voice raises, she’s becoming inpatient. “Then what, exactly?”

Two of them argue and Dustin joins in, though you ignore them and reach the last step to start looking for any possible weapons in the room. If you guys have even the slightest chance of making it out of here alive, then you’ll need more than your switchblade and Steve’s surprising new combat skills. 

As your eyes scan the room, you realize, too late, that the Russian guard Steve had knocked out only minutes ago is now gone. Horrified, you frantically whip your head to find him, but the man is gone. 

Wonderful. 

Erica notices this too. “Um, Steve? Where’s your Russian friend?”

With impeccable comedic timing, lights begin to flicker above you as an alarm sounds. Seems the Russian guard snitched, then. 

“Oh, shit!” Your switchblade finds its way into your hand. This just keeps getting worse and worse.

Steve curses as well and sprints to the door to open it, trying to find another way out, but instead he finds a swarm of guards all staring back at him. Cursing again, he slams the door shut. He doesn’t have to say anything, you know by the look on his face that you’re in deep shit. “Go, go, go!”

Blindly you shove Dustin and Erica into the nearest door, tugging at Robin, and Steve takes the rear as the group starts to run. Your senses are in overdrive, your head swims with anxiety and your eyes flicker to any possible way out. Your legs ache with exertion, but you have no fucking idea where you are. 

You make a sharp right and open a random door, but almost immediately you stumble to a halt when you see that it’s the room to the goddamn machine opening the Upside Down. Of course this is the room you chose. The scientists all stare at you, and you really wish you had stayed in bed yesterday. “Fuck!”

“Go, Y/N!” Dustin yanks on your arm and goes left, finding stairs to run down.

You risk a quick look over your shoulder and your heart drops when you see that the Russian guards are close behind. “We got company!” You’re on the landing platform now, too close to the machine and the gate for your own comfort. Dustin screeches as he shoves a Russian against the railing. You wince, feeling bad despite the horrible circumstances. “Sorry!”

“Why are you apologizing to the Russians–holy shit–” Gripping the back of your brother’s shirt, you save him from face planting into the giant laser beam. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!”

Steve and the others have joined now, and you realize how helplessly cornered the five of you are. You’re standing on the edge of the platform and the laser’s heat can be felt even six feet away while twenty armed Russian soldiers approach from behind. 

Defeated, helpless, terrified, you turn to the person whose hand rests gently on the small of your back; the only person who gives you solace. “Steve.” 

It’s all you can say, your knees feel weak and your body turns to his, helpless. You don’t know what else to do. Steve’s eyes find yours, he can feel Dustin looking to him for help as well. Robin, Erica. Everyone is looking to him, and yet he’s just as terrified. 

“This way!” He doesn’t know where he’s going, he just knows that he has to protect you. Running back down the stairs, he shoves a guard that blocks the path and you’re right behind him, pushing barrels at more guards that round the corner so that no one else can follow. 

“Go!” You wave the others ahead, now taking the rear with Steve. The two of you do whatever you can to slow the Russians down as Robin leads the kids towards another door. You’re all blindly running through the endless walls of the facility.

The door flies open and everyone rushes into the room. 

Everything happens quickly after that.

Steve slams the door while you hold the kids behind you, away from the door and fearful of the bullets that may rain through it. Steve braces his back against the door. The Russians pound the frame from the other side. 

Madly looking around for any sign of an exit, your body fills with unbearable dread when you realize that you’ve locked yourselves in a room without any way out. 

Dustin’s scared hand grips at your arm. He seems to realize what you already have. “Shit!”

“Robin!” Steve calls out to her, desperate. He’s rapidly losing his footing to hold his position as the guards’ fists rage a relentless war. “Help me, come on!”

She runs to him and throws her back against the door as well, and the distress in Steve’s voice only hastens you as you run around the room. There has to be a way out. You refuse to die like this, far below Hawkins and the sunlight you’ve come to love within the small town. 

Breath quickening, you rush up the steps within the room and drag Dustin along with you. Robin’s face is red now, Steve’s feet keep slipping, and from the force of which the door they hold thuds, you know the guards have started to throw their own bodies against it. 

Something creeks below your foot. You look down and inexplicably hope jumps into your chest. There’s a vent grate, this entire underground facility is full of air ducts, it’s how you got into this entire fucking mess in the first place. “Here! I found something!”

Erica joins you and Dustin and quickly the three of you pry the vent open. You help Erica lower herself inside, instructing her to start crawling, now, when Dustin shouts down to Robin and Steve. “Come on!”

“Go! Just get out of here!” Steve screams back, groaning as the pounding on the door becomes more and more violent. 

Your hand, which had been on your brother’s back, ready to help him inside the air duct next, stills. Your entire body freezes as you look over at Steve, ice cold fear crawls up your neck; doubt creeps in as you realize, far too late, that there isn’t enough time for them to escape into the vent. 

There never seems to be enough time. 

But you have to try anyway. All you ever do is try, you will die trying, you just can’t let it be in vain. “Steve, Robin, let’s go!”

Steve clenches his teeth as another body throws itself against the door. Through his exertion he can see how pale you are now, the realization that dawns on you that you will have to leave him behind, and Steve wishes he could kiss the despair off of your pretty face. “No! Just go and get some help, okay?”

“I–I can’t–” Dustin tugs at your shirt to come with him, but your body is unmoving. You can’t, you won’t leave them behind, Steve’s biceps strain against the doorframe and Robin groans in pain, and yet your brother’s fearful grip on you reminds you of your responsibility to him as well. To protect him, to get Erica home, be with them.

But Steve is in danger. He needs you.

You don’t know what to do. 

“Y/N!” Dustin calls after you as you tear yourself away from him.

Blindly, as your vision darkens and the terror in your body threatens to consume you, you stumble down the steps towards Steve. You need to be close to him, it’s all your mind and body can register as the roaring in your head nearly deafens you.

As soon as you’re in front of him, grasping at his shoulders to try and take him with you, Steve pushes you away. “Y/N, you need to leave–”

“I’m not leaving you!” The shrillness scares even yourself, the sheer desperation to stay with Steve comes deep from within your chest as you scream at him. You’re panicking now, angry at him for even considering the idea that you’d ever leave him. As if you haven’t just gotten him back.

You’re never letting go of him now that you have him. 

Not again. 

Robin tries to reason with you herself, distantly you think she pleads with you, but your vision tunnels and all you can see is Steve. Your body hums with the need for his.

“Y/N, listen to me,” Another thud against the door, Robin’s foot slips, and Steve has to throw his head back and brace for yet another impact. He’s angry at you, too. For not listening to him. For how you’ve always blindly sacrificed yourself, harmed yourself to protect others.

Steve won’t let you hurt yourself anymore, not when he can save you.

Not again.

“The kids need you–”

“I need you!” Tears wet your face now, you’re clutching at Steve’s shirt as Dustin continues to scream at you to run, to not abandon him, and it feels as if you can’t breathe as words begin to tumble from your mouth with hysteria. “We–we can run, right now! You’re fast, and–and Robin can jump and–”

Steve’s lips crash against yours. 

He’s weak and scared and helpless; this is the only way he knows how to get you to listen. 

You breathe in sharply as his lips move against yours, you melt into him. He pours everything into the kiss, your teeth knock against his and your hands find his hair, tugging at it as Steve tries to convey everything that time won’t allow him to. 

The kiss is rushed, it’s messy and it’s aching, and through it Steve begs you. To love him despite the fact that he has to leave you, that he’s doing this for you, he begs you to remember him, and selfishly he kisses you because he doesn’t want to die knowing he’s wasted half the damn summer without ever knowing how your lips felt against his. 

It isn’t death that terrifies Steve, it’s the idea that he almost died without knowing how you tasted. 

When Steve finally pulls away, you’re too shocked to move. His lips are tinged pink and his brown eyes are dark in the lighting and you’re both breathless. Your hands remain in his hair, all you can register is how the strands feel between your fingers and that Dustin is now at your side, yanking at your arm to follow him back towards the vent. 

Numbly you allow Steve’s hands to help Dustin move your limp body, your feet rise to reach the steps. The warmth of Steve’s body is gone now. Faintly you feel your brother’s firm, but gentle, hands as he shoves you inside the vent.

There’s a tugging within your chest suddenly, an overwhelming sensation to turn around, and abruptly you come back to yourself. The roaring in your head quiets for only a moment, the lights are bright and Dustin’s fingers dig into your skin, yet still your eyes find Steve.

He’s far below you now, the Russians have almost broken through the door, and his kiss still sears your lips. Urgently, viciously, you scream the only thing you can think of that encompasses all the love and terror within you, “Come home to me!”

Steve opens his mouth to promise you that he will, he always will. You can hear the promise even before he’s said it, but the doors burst open and Dustin slams the vent’s grate down. 

You ran out of time. 

The echo of the grate’s slam rings in your ears. 

– 

Erica is the one that guides you through the air ducts. 

You haven’t said anything since leaving Steve and Robin behind; it’s been hours now, and yet still you do not speak.

Dustin crawls behind you, worried. He watches your body shake slightly as you crawl through the narrow space. His stomach lurches when he notices how white your knuckles have become from how tightly you clench your fists. 

You’re clinging onto what little resolve you have left, it’s evident to Dustin, and he worries about when, not if, you’ll finally snap. He knows that now isn’t the right time to initiate a code blue, but he’s concerned seeing you so broken. He hates that he can’t do anything, that he dragged you away from the others. 

The air inside the ducts is warm, almost nauseatingly so, and the ringing in your ears has yet to fade. Steve’s kiss still burns your lips. His promise to you, that he would return and come back home to you, the promise that he couldn’t make, drowns out all of your other thoughts. 

Come home to me.

He hadn’t had time to answer you. 

The thought nauseates you more than the sickening heat that surrounds you. You left him. Robin, too. 

You left them both behind, just like you left Will behind the night the Demogorgon got him. And the kids, that night when you abandoned them at the middle school and left them vulnerable to that fucking monster. And Jonathan, when he thought his brother had died and you were too lost in your self pity when he needed you the most. 

Now, after promising Steve you’d stay, sworn in the passenger seat of his car as the snow fell around you both, you’ve left him once more. 

Take all the time you need, I’ll be here.

The promises you’ve made burn so deeply that a wince escapes your lips, and Dustin quietly asks if you’re okay. 

“‘M fine,” you manage to rasp out, crawling forward despite the tormented tugging that begs you to turn around.

You hear Dustin’s lips part, he doesn’t believe you and wants to argue, but you keep your head turned away from him and he instead settles on sighing. You’re not ready to talk about it, not yet. Not now, not when you feel as if you’ve lost a piece of yourself. 

Erica turns a corner and starts to slow down. “Fans up ahead.”

“Great,” Dustin groans when he sees the giant blades spinning, blocking the way forward. “Think we could time it right and jump through them?”

“If you wanna lose a head, sure.” Erica snorts, unpleased with the risky idea. “Don’t you have tools in those lame ass cargo shorts you’re wearing?”

“My cargo shorts aren’t lame…”

You sit quietly as Dustin and Erica try and figure out what to do. You’re still in shock, you can’t gather the energy to try and help them. It’s like a switch has been flipped inside of you, deactivating your ability to do anything other than be plagued with the crippling sensation of loss. 

Eventually Erica convinces Dustin to try and break into the control panel next to the fans and shut them down manually. He pulls a screwdriver from one of his pockets (to Erica’s utter amusement), and starts unscrewing the bolts. Through it all, you remain quiet, and when Dustin looks over at you, he finds you staring blankly at the walls with an almost lifeless gaze.

He sighs. Needing to distract himself, Dustin figures now is as good a time as any to explain everything to Erica. The Russians, why they’re here, why you’ve almost lost your mind trying to protect everyone. “It all started the night Will disappeared, two years ago.”

Dustin explains the Upside Down, the Demogorgon and how it was able to travel to their world through a gate El had accidentally opened with her powers, and now how the Russians have somehow found this gate and are attempting to reopen it.

Erica, to her credit, listens. She doesn’t question a thing, and Dustin is surprised by her lack of sarcastic input, but when he finishes explaining everything, the girl only has doubts about one thing: Lucas being involved. 

“Wait, so you believe everything about El and the gate, and the Demodogs and the Mind Flayer, but you question your brother’s involvement?” Dustin asks the girl, in disbelief of how her mind works. 

“That’s correct.”

Then, surprising them both, you finally speak. “Lucas is brave, Erica. He’s done a lot for the party.”

Erica’s stony expression softens slightly, her usual argumentative demeanor backs down. “Yeah, well. Whatever. You’re damn lucky it’s your birthday and I feel bad for you.”

It’s not much, but you know that she’s spared you her malice. For once you accept the sympathy, even if your luck has run out hours ago when Steve kissed you and then tore you apart. “Lucky,” you snort. “Yeah.”

Dustin and Erica look at one another wearily, though you pretend you don’t see it. After a few heartbeats, your brother clears his throat and goes back to unscrewing the control panel.

“Um, you need help with that?” Erica asks the boy, doubtful of his capabilities. When Dustin tells her no, she doubles down. “I mean, it’s taking a while, so–”

Dustin huffs at her. “Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.”

“Don’t cuss at her.” You butt in, but Erica has already started back with her arguing. 

She claims that at the slow pace you’re going, Steve and Robin stand no chance, and her words make the nausea claw up your throat. Dustin notices the way you clutch at your stomach and he quickly tries to reason with Erica, maybe say that she’s wrong, but the girl only continues to talk. 

“I mean, we’ve made it about point-three miles in nine hours.” Erica looks down at her watch as she speaks, but her eyes almost swim with the numbers you assume she invisions in her mind. “Then we had to walk three hours down that tunnel, so I’d estimate ten miles back to the elevator, which should take us approximately twelve and a half days.”

You and Dustin look at each other, baffled. No way Erica managed to come up with those numbers all on her own. Sure, you’ve always secretly suspected that she was more intelligent than she let on, but Jesus. You can hardly remember the multiples of seven on a good day. 

“Did you just do all of that in your head?” Dustin asks her, eyes wide with astonishment.

Erica shrugs. “I’m good with numbers.”

“That’s an understatement,” you mumble under your breath, though you’re starting to feel more like yourself again. Dustin calls Erica a nerd, which she adamantly denies, and the light hearted conversation almost seems to draw you out of your state of shock, albeit slowly. 

Your brother lists off all the proof he has of Erica’s “nerdiness” and you listen, chuckling. The genuine offense on the girl’s face is hard not to laugh at, and when Dustin sees that it seems to be cheering you up, he doubles down on his efforts. 

“Fact number three: you love My Little Pony.” He holds up Erica’s backpack that has two ponies printed across it, which you snort at.

Erica crosses her arms defensively. “And what does My Little Pony have to do with this?”

“Let’s recall the ponies’ latest adventure, shall we?” Dustin clears his throat and begins retelling the tales of the ponies, and you cannot believe that your fourteen year old brother still watches the show and pays enough attention to understand its themes and narrative. “Ergo, My Little Pony is nerdy. Ergo, you, Erica, are a nerd.”

“Not to take sides,” you poke your head between the two kids. “But why do you know so much about the show, Dustin?”

“Because I’m a nerd.” He manages to get the control panel open and rips the wires out of it. Electric sparks fly as they disconnect and the fans behind you slowly come to a stop. “Now, let’s go, nerds.”

Erica glares at him before turning to you. “Do you watch My Little Pony, Y/N?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m not that pathetic. I read comics instead, like the mature seventeen year old I am.”

The girl rolls her eyes at you, entirely over you and your brother, and starts crawling through the air ducts once more. As she leaves, Dustin stays behind. “Hey,”

His hand wraps around your arm and stops you from following Erica. You pause, confused as to what he may want. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” In the lighting, for just a moment, Dustin looks up at you and he’s the nine year old little boy who once feared you would get lost in your mother’s grief and father’s anger.

The last icy tendrils of shock melt, you come back to yourself when you hear your little brother’s fear for his sister. Taking Dustin’s hand into yours, you squeeze it. “Of course I’m okay. I have you.” 

Dustin laughs softly, relief evident within his exhale, and you yank his hat off of his head to break the remaining tension away. He lunges for it, betrayed, though he laughs again anyways, and for a few seconds it’s just the two of you giggling to yourselves as you fight over the hat. 

“Are you two shitbirds coming, or do I gotta kill those Commies on my own?” Erica shouts, now on the other side of the air duct.

With one last tug, Dustin tears the hat from your grasp and sticks his tongue out at you. “Last one to Erica owes the other $5!” He starts speed crawling towards the girl, giving you absolutely no chance of winning, and you hang your head in defeat and sigh.

The fucker owes you so much money already.

–

It takes hours.

Back aching and knees bruised, you crawl behind the kids in the seemingly endless maze that resides in the facility’s air ducts. It’s similar to the tunnels you walked through what feels like years ago originally, with Steve holding your hand through it all, though you know it couldn’t have been less than a day ago now.

The entire time, your mind doesn’t once quiet its concern for Steve and Robin. Just when the pounding in your head becomes splitting, Dustin stops you and Erica.

“Y/N, help me remove the vent.”

“Why, what’s up there?” You’re next to him, squinting through the grate’s small holes. All you see are what appear to be a line of vaults, though it’s hard to tell. “I don’t see anyone.”

Dustin starts prying at the vent. “Exactly, there’s no one up there and look, can’t you see it?”

You squint again, getting even closer to the holes to peer inside. Something glows bright green on one of the vault’s shelfs. “Is that…?”

“Uh huh. Now help me, will you?”

It takes a minute or so before you’re able to pry the vent open. Together, the two of you slowly lift your heads through the opening and look around. The room you’ve ended up in is empty. Along its walls are rows of vaults with multiple vials of the green chemicals you found in the elevator. 

You’re not entirely sure what your brother has in mind, but you know it can’t be anything good.

“Jackpot!” Dustin breathes out with newfound exhilaration. He climbs out of the air duct first and eagerly starts looking around while you help Erica out. 

The two kids look around in amazement, but you survey the area out of habit. It’s too quiet within the room. Being so close to the chemicals again leaves you on edge. “Stay close to me, we don’t know who could be nearby–”

“Oh!” Dustin abandons your caution in a heartbeat. He starts running down the steps, and when you see what’s gotten him so excited, you follow after him. There’s a cart right at the bottom of the stairs, parked to the side without anyone in it. 

It could be your ticket out of here, if you’re lucky.

“Do you even know how to drive?” Erica teases Dustin, but you step past her and join him to inspect the vehicle. 

He waves an indifferent hand at her. “How hard can it be? Max did it.”

“That was the worst car ride of my life” You shiver at the memory. The taste of blood fills your mouth and you can almost feel the bruises again. Shaking your head, you force yourself to focus. “Think you could hotwire this?”

Dustin furrows his brows and ducks his head under the wheel. He shuffles around, mumbling to himself, before he curses. “No, it’s one of those fancy, expensive carts. Which is goddamn ironic for people who hate wealth. We need a key.”

“Okay, that’s not how Communism necessarily works–”

“Did you two seriously think they’d leave keys in there?” Erica interrupts you, cutting straight to the point as she always does. 

Dustin starts digging around the cart now. He checks the mirror compartment, under the seat, wherever his hands can reach. “There’s gotta be a spare…” When he comes up with nothing, he shoves you out of the cart. “Go and look inside the vault room.”

“A ‘please’ wouldn’t hurt.” Though you do as you’re told, trusting that the room is secure enough to leave him and Erica alone for a few minutes as you look.

There are vials everywhere, but no signs of a spare key. You wander the rows, the green liquid glows ominously. Drawing your face closer to one of the vials, the liquid bubbles in its glass container. This small, inconspicuous vial is what melted cement back at the elevator.

An idea comes to you. 

“Dustin,” you call over your shoulder, eyes still on the chemical. “What if we grabbed some of these vials and used them as some kind of weapon? I mean, it’s some pretty powerful stuff.” No one responds, which you frown at. It’s then that you realize it’s become suspiciously quiet, and with your heartbeat in your throat, you run back towards the kids. 

You find Dustin with spare keys in his hand, a proud smile on his face. “Found ‘em.”

“I’m going to start making you pay me every time you give me a goddamn heart attack.” A hand rests against your chest as you try to lower your heart rate. “I mean, this just can’t be good for me–”

A loud, spine tingling crack of electricity zaps behind you.

Screaming, you jump at the noise and into Dustin’s side. You both turn around, coming face to face with a giant electric prod held by a smiling Erica. 

“What the hell is that?” Dustin shouts at her, fear still in his voice. 

“A deadly weapon.” She zaps it again and the sound is deafening. “Could be useful.”

Both hands on your chest now, you hunch over and try to not to have a heart attack right then and there. “You kids are going to kill me one day.” You swallow, take a deep breath. “God, why can’t we stick with knives? They’re quiet, quaint. Not at all terrifying.”

“Knives against Commies? I thought you wanted to save your boyfriend, Y/N.” Erica swings the prod as she speaks and you hold your hands up.

“Let’s not swing that around, okay? The last thing I need today is to be electrocuted by that thing.” When she lowers the prod, you continue. “But…  you should keep it. It’ll be useful for saving Steve and Robin.”

Dustin steps in front of you. “Wait a minute, aren’t you always lecturing me about being realistic? We don’t even know where they are.”

“And aren’t you always lecturing me about putting the party first?” You can’t believe that Dustin isn’t tearing the place apart to find Steve. “We can’t just leave them here. No way you think I’d let you do that.”

“But there are a million guards up there with weapons way deadlier than that!” He points at Erica’s electric prod. He starts walking towards the cart, keys in hand, and beckons you to get inside it as well. “Admit it, the best thing we can do for them is get out of here and find help. Our chance of surviving, and theirs, rises substantially.”

“No.” You don’t step foot in the cart.

“Just trust me on this.” Dustin tries to get you into the cart, but you plant your feet on the ground and refuse to move. “Y/N, please don’t be difficult right now.”

“I said no.” Your voice hardens. Dustin has never been one to back away from a challenge, and yet here he is. Accepting defeat and leaving Steve and Robin to suffer the consequences of it. You’ve always been the first to stand behind realism, to denounce insane ideas and stunts that the party always manages to get itself into, but this time it’s different. 

Somewhere within these walls, your friends are facing unimaginable terrors. They sacrificed themselves to save you and the kids. Once again, Steve Harrington has saved your life.

And you’ve always evened out your debts to him. 

“We’re going to look for them.” You walk back into the vault room and start grabbing vial after vial of chemicals. There’s an air of authority in your demeanor, daring the kids to argue with you. You’re taking control now after being numb for so long. Dustin follows you, tries to argue, but you continue grabbing vials from the shelves as a plan forms in your head. “We are going to grab as many of these as we can, load them up into the cart, and then drive around this shithole until we find our friends.”

You shove the vials into Dustin’s arms. He blinks at you, this is the most clear headed he’s seen you since descending down in the elevator. Marching back towards the cart, you place your own vials down. “Then, we are going to use whatever chemical this is to cause a distraction. We’ll melt something, maybe cause a fire. I don’t give a shit what we do. All I know is that we are going to then save our friends and get the fuck out of this hellscape. Do I make myself clear?”

Dustin and Erica stare at you, jaws slacked, both now sitting in the cart. Taking their silence as a yes, you nod, pleased. “Fantastic. Now, my dear brother, start driving or I will. Either way: we’re leaving.”

He gulps and tightens his hands on the steering wheel. When you’ve settled into the back of the vehicle, he starts the cart. “Let’s go, then.”

As Dustin drives, Erica twists in her seat to look at you. She’s impressed, albeit still slightly terrified. “Have you always been so scary?”

“Yes. I just hide it well. Makes it more useful when I need it.” 

– 

You’ve just finished counting the vials when Erica seems to decide now is an appropriate time to ask invasive questions. 

“So what do you see in that hair guy?”

“You mean Steve?” Although, you suppose that hair guy is a pretty good indicator for him.

Erica nods. “Yeah, I just don’t understand how someone like him could impress you. He wears a sailor’s uniform and flings ice cream all day long.”

You’re oddly touched by this, though her description of Steve makes you sad. He’s so much more than just some guy who scoops ice cream. He’s brave, selfless, sensitive, and kind. “Don’t give me too much credit. There’s a lot you don’t know about Steve.”

She makes a disgusted face. “Yuck. It sounds like you love the guy.”

Dustin cringes and looks disgusted as well. He doesn’t want to hear his sister waxing and waning about his friend. “Can we not talk about that right now?”

Erica pinches his side, causing him to nearly crash the cart into the wall. “I’m an inquisitive person and clearly they’re in love. Y/N almost bit your head off when you suggested abandoning him.”

“Okay, I didn’t suggest abandoning him.”

“It’s just the facts!”

They argue, forgetting that you’re there. However, you need the distraction, and talking about Steve has always made you feel braver than you really are. A smile spreads across your face when you think about him. The words spill from your mouth without any effort. “I do love Steve.”

Dustin’s arguing fades away. His eyes meet yours in the cart’s rearview mirror. He already knew that you loved Steve, but to hear you say it, to see the blush that invades your face whenever you talk about him, it makes everything more real. Guilt washes over him. He wanted you to leave the boy you love behind. 

“Look,” Dustin sighs. He needs to get this off of his chest. “I’m sorry about telling you to leave Steve and–”

A scream echoes within the hall. It’s feminine, familiar. 

“Robin,” your stomach twists. She’s alive. And close. She has to be close if you can hear her screams. You grab Dustin’s shoulder. “Go!” 

He slams on the gas and the cart picks up speed. Rounding the corner, he brakes harshly and you’re in yet another hallways. It’s silent, there isn’t anyone there. You close your eyes, you’re close. You can feel it, but you can’t locate them if you don’t know where they are. 

“C’mon, Robin, “ you plead. “Help us find you.”

Another scream, this time it sounds even closer.

“That way!” Erica points left, and there’s no time to doubt if she’s right. The three of you jump out the cart and grab the chemicals. Dustin also grabs the electric prod, and then you all start running. 

Robin screams again, and this time you can place which door it comes from. Adrenaline rushes through you. You have to work fast. At the end of the hall you see what looks to be an alarm switch on the wall. It wasn’t a part of your plan earlier, but it’ll have to do.

“Erica, go to the switch down there. When I say go, you press it. Alright?” She nods at you, quickening her pace. You turn to Dustin next, grabbing the vials from him. “Get the prod ready. I’ll throw the vials.”

When you get to the door that separates you from Robin, you press your ear against it. Voices are muffled, but still Steve's voice comes through as well. Your heart jumps. He’s with her. He’s alive as well. 

Erica stands at the end of the hall and you hold your palm up, signaling her to wait. Looking at Dustin, he nods at you and holds the prod to his chest. Taking a deep breath, you start throwing the vials harshly against the floor.

You use all the anger within you to guide what little strength you have left. The anger drives you, it propels the vials, it shatters them. The chemicals spill everywhere. The cement floor begins to erode away, sizzling. After you’ve thrown your last one, you shout to Erica, “Now!”

Alarms sound overhead. Erica runs back towards you and you shove the kids behind a barrel. Within seconds the hallway fills with Russian guards and they swarm around the melted floor, but you keep your eyes on the door. Silently you beg for your plan to work. The door has to open, whoever is inside has to come and investigate the damage you’ve caused. 

An agonizing three seconds pass. Sweat drips down your face. Then, a man comes crashing out of the door. He marches down the hallway and disappears when he turns the corner. As soon as he’s gone, Dustin slams through the door. There’s a man dressed in doctor’s scrubs within the room, but your brother attacks him with the prod and knocks him out quickly.

Erica and Dustin stand over the unconscious man. They’re surprised the plan has worked. Yet all you see is Steve. 

Everything else fades away. He’s tied to a chair, his face is bleeding. You run towards him, uncaring about whatever else may be in the room. A whole fucking army of Russians could be standing next to you right now and you still wouldn’t spare them a single glance. 

“Oh, honey.” The sentiment drips from your lips as your knife cuts through the rope that binds him. You’re so fucking relieved that he’s okay, that Robin is as well. But there’s so much blood. In your periphery you see a tray with a bone saw on it. 

“There’s my pretty girl!” Steve giggles, head lolling to the side as he admires you. “Isn’t she the prettiest, Robin?”

Robin giggles as well, her face just as bruised and bloodied as his. “So pretty!” 

“Oh God,” despite their injured state, the two teens are in an unusually good mood. They giggle like school girls, Robin even bats her eyelashes at you. Something is off with them. “How hard did they hit your heads?”

Dustin starts to help you untie Steve. “Get ready to run.” He instructs them with a firm voice. However, Robin and Steve continue to laugh. As if this is all one big joke to them. 

They almost seem… drunk. 

But there isn’t time to ask any questions. Any minute now the guards will return. You cut the last rope that’s tied around Robin and ask Erica if she can carry her. They’re too loopy to walk straight, you’ll need to help Dustin carry Steve back to the cart.

It takes a lot of yelling, slapping Steve’s hand away from your face as you struggle to drag his limp body to the cart, more bribes for Robin than you ever would’ve imagined, but miraculously you get the two idiots into the cart parked outside. 

As soon as they’re secured in the back with you, Dustin steps on the gas and you leave the Russians behind.

“Tried promising you I’d come home, angel.” Steve is sprawled on your lap. His eyes are cloudy, he isn’t quite here with you. 

“You didn’t have to say anything. I knew you’d promise me.” You reassure him. Carefully, you brush hair out of his face and you inspect his wounds. The cuts don’t look too deep, but you’re worried he might have yet another concussion. Thankfully, however, the blood has already started to scab over. The worst of it is over, and yet your heart still constricts when you remember that he’s injured because of you. “My poor, sweet honey.”

Steve closes his eyes and hums with content. “I love it when you call me honey.” He rolls onto his side now and nuzzles his bloodied face into your stomach. “Makes me feel special.”

Your fingers find his hair, careful to avoid any bumps and heart swelling at what he’s said. Clearing your throat, you look to Robin who is on your other side. You start checking her over as well. She isn’t as battered as Steve is, though a bruise is forming on her cheek. 

When she sees you looking at her, she winks. “I lived!”

“You did,” you squeeze her hand and her head falls against your shoulder. She lets out her own content sigh, and you play with her hair as well. They’re still with you. Still whole and alive.

With Steve and Robin safely wrapped around you, you can finally rest.

-

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